


Skin Deep

by Adanie_Josaeh



Series: SanSan as Parents [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arya the Softball Coach, F/M, Makeup Artist Sansa, Makeup tutorials, Pre-teen Daughters, Sandor is clueless poor baby, Sandor the Softball Dad, Single Dad Sandor, Single Parents, Slow Burn, Softball, Somehow Jaime and Brienne snuck their way into this, YouTube, Youtube Tutorials
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 64,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22055824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adanie_Josaeh/pseuds/Adanie_Josaeh
Summary: Prompt:  Sansa is a YouTube beauty guru and Sandor is a single dad who’s trying to learn about makeup for his daughter.  (prompt came from pedants-united on Tumblr...PedantsUnited here on AO3)Sandor has raised his 12 year old daughter by himself for nearly a decade and he thinks he's done a pretty good job.  But when his preteen starts showing interest in makeup, he's completely lost.  When he finds out that his daughter has been watching makeup tutorials on YouTube, his curiosity gets the best of him and he decides to take a peek at the videos...and promptly starts crushing on a YouTube star.(((CURRENTLY ON HIATUS)))
Relationships: Arya Stark & Original Character(s), Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane & Original Character(s), Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark & Original Character(s)
Series: SanSan as Parents [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893205
Comments: 395
Kudos: 757





	1. She looks good because it's her job to look good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleWolfBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWolfBird/gifts).



> Umm. So I didn't actually mean to start another story...it just kind of happened. I'll probably regret this decision at some point because while it's hard enough juggling two WIP, I imagine three is going to make me wanna pull my hair out.
> 
> I saw this prompt on Tumblr LAST NIGHT and immediately wrote a chapter. There will definitely be more chapters, but as I haven't actually planned this story out, I don't really have an update schedule for it yet.
> 
> Anyway, this is different from anything I've ever written, but I enjoyed writing it and hope others do too!

War was easier than daughters. It was known.

And Sandor Clegane’s daughter wasn’t even a teenager yet, though it was creeping up fast. He looked across the car at his twelve year old girl, earbuds in place, staring out her window, mouthing words to some song he’d never heard of more than likely, and wondered just when the change had happened. Because sitting across the car from him wasn’t a little girl any longer, but a young lady.

He supposed that he first noticed The Change when she suddenly decided to grow her hair out after keeping it cut short for so many years. It was past her shoulders now, neatly trimmed without any visible split ends (apparently that was important). Her hair, much like the rest of her, had been inherited from him. It was straight and black and, thankfully for him, not very thick. It had been a struggle learning how to put it in a ponytail, but once he’d seen the hair of some of her friends, he was glad for its fine quality, making it much easier to deal with.

The ear piercings was likely the second clue that should’ve made him realize that she was no longer a little kid. He’d agreed readily enough when she asked for him to take her to get her ears pierced. She’d been eleven at the time and he felt she was certainly old enough to make that kind of decision about her appearance. But three months later she decided she wanted her second holes, so he’d taken her back and she’d gotten those as well. Recently, she had mentioned that she wanted a helix piercing, and nose ring, and maybe a belly button ring. Sandor had told her he’d think about the helix, but the other two were out of the question, at least for another few years. She’d pouted a bit, but accepted his decision without much fuss. The kid had never asked for much and he hated to deny her.

The third thing happened just after her twelfth birthday. She had received some money from her Aunt Margaery and Uncle Bronn, as she did every year, but instead of spending it on toys or video games she had dragged Sandor to the mall and promptly spent every cent on new clothes and shoes. He’d known then that he was just going to feel more and more lost the older she got and it made him a little sad.

She had no mother, after all, or at least not one worth mentioning. Sandor and her mother had an on-again, off-again relationship that resulted in the pre-teen sitting just feet from him. They’d agreed to co-parent, but as time went on, their daughter spent more and more time with Sandor while her mother found other things to get into. One day, her mother had decided that being a mother was just not for her and had disappeared. Their daughter was only three at the time and had taken it rough. She’d wake up crying in the night for her momma and would find only Sandor there to comfort her. She’d grown up tough though.

“Skylor,” Sandor rasped as the traffic finally started moving. Blissfully unaware, his daughter continued mouthing lyrics to whatever she was listening to and dancing a little bit. “Skylor!”

She snapped her head around and pulled her earbuds out, giving him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, Dad?”

He rolled his eyes. “Are you hungry? You wanna just pick something up?” They did that more than anything else. With their schedule, they were rarely at home for mealtimes.

“Yeah, it’s either that or grilled cheese, right?” She shot him a smile, showing her little dimple.

“Thought you liked grilled cheese?”

It was her turn to roll her eyes, “I do, but I had that for supper last night. Let’s go get a burger or some chicken.”

“Mmm, chicken,” Sandor said, making her laugh.

“How have you not turned into a chicken? That’s all you eat.” She put her earbuds in her backpack, seemingly open to conversation with him now. “So…that tryout is tomorrow…”

“Aye, I know. I’ve already agreed to take you.”

“Just reminding you,” she said lightly. “I really, _really_ want to make this team, Dad.”

 _Well, at least_ that _hasn’t changed_ , he thought. “What’s it called again? Lion Pride?”

“Yep.”

“Nervous?” He asked her, his eyes sliding to look at her face.

She laughed. “No. I’m excited, but not nervous.”

He’d known that before he asked her. She was never nervous about anything. Nothing ever seemed to get to the kid and he supposed he should be thankful for that. She’d played softball since she was four years old and hadn’t slowed down once. At the age of seven, she’d begun playing fall ball in addition to her regular season. Sandor had given her plenty of opportunities to slow down and take a break, but those suggestions always seemed to irritate her.

Honestly, Sandor was fairly amazed by her. She was his, so maybe he was biased, but he couldn’t help thinking that she was a pretty spectacular kid, despite who her parents were. She was basically a genius, easily making top grades in school with minimal effort. She never needed his help for homework and whenever he pushed her to study more, she reminded him that she couldn’t make more than 100% on her tests, which she brought home more often than not. Then, of course, there was the softball thing.

Skylor was left-handed, and quick, and had a good bat. She had never been a power hitter, but she’d always been the kid a team could count on to get on base consistently. Her glove was solid too. She played first base and center field and nothing ever seemed to get past her. At eight years old, though she had a promising future as a first baseman, Skylor had suddenly decided she wanted to pitch.

Sandor had known nothing about the position. It looked difficult and he had no idea how to work with her. She’d started out watching YouTube videos of pitchers and pitching coaches, and before he knew it, the kid had set up her hitting net in the backyard and began pitching into it. It hadn’t taken her long after that to convince him to put her in lessons. He’d growled at her that first day, telling her that this better not be a waste of money, but she’d ignored his grumpy demeanor and set out to learn how to pitch.

Within a few months, the pitching coach had pulled him aside and admitted that there was nothing else she could teach Skylor and suggested they find another teacher.

Sandor had been offended at first, not understanding why her coach wanted to drop her. “She works hard. I watch her go outside every day and pitch into that net. You’re trying to tell me she can’t be helped?”

The young woman’s eyes had gone wide and she’d taken a step back, clearly intimidated by the tall, scary muscular dude looming over her. “N-no, Mr. Clegane. It’s not that at all! You see, Skylor’s skill level is beyond what I normally teach. She’s…she’s very _good_. Better than any child I’ve seen at her age. I was just suggesting you may want to get someone who will challenge her more. I work with beginners and Skylor is passed the point where I can really help her.”

That had shut him up. Sandor hadn’t expected to be told his little daughter was pitching beyond her skill level. So, he’d gone out and found her another coach. Then he’d started educating himself. He learned all the rules of pitching, all the exercises, all the little things that needed attention to make his daughter successful.

Four years after first showing interest, Skylor had become a bracket pitcher who could throw in the mid-fifties consistently. Other parts of her game had suffered a little, mainly her batting, but his little girl had become an elite pitcher in her age group, so it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. And now this tryout with a prestigious organization had presented itself as an opportunity to push herself even further and Skylor had jumped at the chance.

But now Skylor had found interest in other things. As they drove home eating their fastfood out of a bag, Sandor thought about what it meant for him now that she was growing up. Skylor had been an easy kid to raise, even he knew that. She was happy and mostly obedient and had fallen in love with a sport that Sandor enjoyed watching. He wasn’t sure how to handle this pre-teen Skylor with her shiny hair and girly clothes and lip gloss.

As though she had sensed his ruminations about her looming adolescence, when they got home she asked if she could use their shared tablet to get on YouTube. She had a phone, but Sandor had taken every safety measure he could by blocking all the potentially bad stuff she could get into.

He grabbed the tablet and he passed it to her on his way to the kitchen. “Pitching videos?” He guessed.

When she didn’t immediately answer him, he turned back to her while he filled a cup with water from the fridge. She was fidgeting a little and a blush was creeping up her cheeks.

“Skylor?” He sounded sterner than he’d meant to, but he knew that she wasn’t likely to be affected by his tone anyway. “You aren’t watching something inappropriate, are you?”

“No, Dad,” she said, though the blush deepened.

“Then what is it?”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, a very teenage thing to do indeed, and then mumbled something he couldn’t understand. Narrowing his eyes, he walked over to her, towering over her in an effort to intimidate her. It didn’t quite work as she simply glanced up at him and flicked an eyebrow up in curiosity.

“Tell me, Skylor.”

“Fine,” she whined a little and turned the tablet to show him what she searched.

On the screen was a stunning red head with sky blue eyes, her face frozen where Skylor had paused the video. His eyes flicked back to his daughter’s and he knew he must look confused.

“What’s this?” He could tell it wasn’t a bloody pitching video.

Skylor gave that very teenage huff again, rolled her eyes _again_ , and said, “It’s a makeup tutorial, Dad.”

Sandor looked between the screen and his daughter, trying not to give away that he had no idea what she was talking about. “Ah. Okay.”

“It’s literally just a video about how to put on makeup,” Skylor said, taking the tablet back away from him.

“That’s what you’re watching?” He asked incredulously.

Another blush. She was going to set a record. “ _Yes_ , Dad.”

“Okay, fine,” he turned away, a little perplexed but not seeing any harm with her watching something that was sure to bore her to death. Skylor scampered off to the couch and got comfortable while Sandor decided to do some cleaning up. He figured that his kid would grow tired of the how-to video rather quickly, but an hour later, she was still sitting on the couch, transfixed by whatever was on that tablet screen.

“Okay, screen time over,” he announced.

She groaned a little, but handed over the tablet giving him her best sad eyes. “Can I watch some more after my shower?”

“No. Don’t you have homework?”

“No. Finished it at school.”

“Need to study for a test?”

“Don’t have any tests until next week.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a book to read?” He had her there. Athleticism aside, Skylor was a book nerd and was always reading something.

She nodded and started off to the bathroom. “Fine,” she said, though she didn’t sound very upset at the prospect of reading. 

_Makeup tutorials. What the fuck?!_ It was just another sign of the impending teenage years. He had hoped his sweet little Skylor would be immune to it, but clearly she’d fallen victim to it quicker than he would’ve anticipated. As far as he knew, Skylor didn’t actually own any makeup, meaning that was likely the next thing he’d have to endure. But then, he supposed if he could put on a brave face to go bra shopping, then he could certainly handle shopping for makeup.

He heard the water turn on in the hall bathroom and knew she’d be in there for a good half hour. Curiosity gnawing at him, he sat on the couch, tablet in his hands, and signed back into YouTube. His feed was full of the how-to videos, most of them featuring the same girl with the red hair. _What the hells_ , he thought, clicking on the first video and assuring himself he was just checking that the videos were appropriate.

The gorgeous redhead appeared on screen and began talking about essential products for beginners. He didn’t hear much of what she was saying as he was too busy trying not to drool all over the tablet screen. The woman was fucking perfection. Her long, red hair flowed over her shoulders and down to her elbows. _Maybe this is why Skylor suddenly got a taste for long hair_ , he thought. The woman’s eyes were a startling shade of blue that reminded Sandor of the sky on a sunny day.

 _Seven fucking hells, what am I thinking? I’m not some buggering poet_. Thick, long, black lashes framed those amazing eyes and when she giggled and winked at the camera, Sandor thought his heart would stop. Her mouth was full and pink and he imagined that she’d taste as sweet as she looked. When she smiled, perfectly straight, blindingly white teeth contrasted with her pink lips.

 _She just looks pretty because of the makeup_ , he reasoned. After all, if she was teaching other people how to apply makeup, she was clearly an expert. Anyone could look good with enough cosmetics. _Well, anyone but me_ , he thought grouchily, absently touching the scarred side of his face. 

_“Alright, so let’s get started!”_ The gorgeous woman chirped at the camera. The scene cut over to the woman with her hair now pulled completely back. Her face was scrubbed of the makeup she'd been wearing in the previous clip and she was currently pulling what looked like a large, very stretchy band over her head. _“I always use a headband to make sure no hair gets loose while I’m applying makeup,”_ she explained.

 _Damn, still gorgeous,_ he thought, studying the bare face of the stunning beauty on his screen. The lack of makeup actually took nothing away from her appearance at all; in fact, Sandor thought that he might prefer it. Her skin was ivory and flawless, with just a touch of pink in her cheeks. Her long lashes were not actually black, but a dark auburn, just a few shades darker than the hair on her head. She was still talking, but Sandor had tuned out again, too swept up in admiring her.

She was saying something about the importance of primer, whatever the fuck that was, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her mouth. _That is a perfectly bitable bottom lip_ , he decided. He didn’t listen much, mostly watched the various expressions on the woman’s face, but every now and then he caught a word that he was unfamiliar with like _brow gel_ , or _matte stick_ , which was evidently not the same thing as lip stick (that being one of the few words she said that he recognized). The video ended with the pretty redhead showing off her handiwork. A new video started immediately after the first one ended and it seemed to involve things called moisturizer and toner.

So engrossed was he with his newfound YouTube crush that Sandor didn’t hear the water shut off. He was caught moments later by his daughter watching a makeup tutorial.

“Dad?”

He didn’t jump, but his head spun around to her and he hastily exited out of YouTube. Skylor was wearing her unicorn onesie (at least she hadn’t yet outgrown her ridiculous pajamas) and watching him with a puzzled look. He stood up and laid the tablet on the coffee table. “What?” He rumbled at her.

“Were you watching Sansa?”

He turned around a little too quickly. “Who?”

Skylor crossed her arms and popped her hip out, Seven knew where she’d learned that stance (probably Margaery), and stared at him as though she was trying to pick his brain apart. “Why were you watching Sansa?”

Although Sandor had at this point gathered who Sansa was, he gave her a blank look, hoping she’d give another one of those frustrated, teenager huffs and stomp off to her room.

No such luck.

“Daddy, I promise I wasn’t looking at anything bad. You saw it, right? She doesn’t swear or say anything inappropriate. It’s completely clean.”

“Okay…so, uh, who is she?”

“Her name’s Sansa, obviously,” she said it in a tone that indicated she was dealing with an imbecile. “I mean, you had to have seen her Twitter and Instagram handles pop up in the video. The channel is called Sansa’s Makeup Chair.”

“Okay…” He said again.

Skylor sighed and looked back at her tablet. “I love Sansa. I wish I looked like her.”

Sandor couldn’t believe those words had just come from his daughter’s mouth. Skylor had never been envious of anyone’s beauty, never really cared what she looked like, and he had tried to teach her that looks didn’t matter and beauty was only skin deep. He wasn’t sure how to comfort her in this situation. He thought she was beautiful, but then, she was his and that was expected of him. He wasn’t in the habit of spewing out empty words to anyone, including his own daughter, but he felt like he should say _something_.

“She looks good because it’s her job to look good,” he offered, awkwardly patting his daughter’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t want to look like anyone other than yourself.” _Fuck’s sake, I’m bad at this_. “Beauty is only skin deep,” he added for good measure.

Skylor’s grey eyes danced with amusement, clearly sensing that he felt like he was making an arse of himself. She heaved a sigh, “Thanks, Daddy. But if it’s okay, after my tryout tomorrow can we go pick up some of the products she uses? I’ve been meaning to ask for a while and was afraid you’d think it was dumb, but now that you’ve caught me…”

“Aye, we’ll go get your bloody makeup,” he grumbled as she jumped up to peck his cheek and then headed off to her room, presumably to read.

 _And so it begins_.


	2. YouTube Makeup Queen Throws Temper Tantrum in Coffee Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa runs into an old pain in her ass while out to coffee with Arya.

Sansa Stark was living the dream. She woke up every morning to find new subscribers to her YouTube channel that just confirmed to her that the risk she had taken a couple of years ago was paying off. Her mother had told her she was crazy for quitting her job to become a YouTuber full time, but Sansa knew that she couldn’t achieve what she really wanted by only putting half her heart into it. And thankfully, her hard work had proved her mother wrong.

With somewhere around ten million subscribers – and that number grew daily – Sansa was doing quite well for herself as a beauty vlogger. Her channel had started out as basic tutorials for her favorite makeup brands. She had expanded her channel initially to include hair tutorials. As the popularity of her channel grew, she began getting requests from cosmetic brands, asking her to sample their new products. Of course, there were some products that she didn’t care for, but Sansa was always careful to be polite in her assessment of the product, even if her review wasn’t necessarily favorable.

New samples arrived on her doorstep daily and she found that she was shooting videos almost as often. In addition to her channel, she’d also expanded by starting a blog, which allowed her to go more in depth about the products she tested. She loved the career she’d carved out for herself. It was truly a dream come true.

What was _not_ a dream come true was sitting in a coffee shop with her sister, enjoying her day, only to see her ex-boyfriend pop into the same coffee shop with a girl on his arm.

“Gods!” Sansa ducked her head, staring down into her iced coffee.

“The fuck?” Arya exclaimed.

Sansa peeked up at her. “It’s, uh, it’s Joff. He’s waiting at the counter. Quick, switch places with me!”

Arya didn’t move, but gave her sister a Look that suggested she was an idiot. “Sansa, even the back of your head is recognizable because of that hair. I’ll stay where I’m at, thank you,” she glanced over her shoulder and made a disgusted noise when her eyes landed on Sansa’s ex. 

“I hope he doesn’t come over,” Sansa said, biting her lip nervously.

Arya turned back to her and grinned wickedly, “If he does, all the better reason to knee him in the balls. I almost hope he does come over.”

Sansa tried to keep her cool and keep her eyes off Joffrey, but she felt his gaze land on her as he moved up to the counter to place his order. She glanced up to find him smirking at her. He whispered something to the girl he was with and when she nodded to him, he stepped away from her and headed to their table.

“Fuck,” Sansa said dejectedly.

“Sansa Stark, I never…” Arya teased.

“Don’t start with me,” Sansa said waspishly, glaring at her sister. She sat up straighter and lifted her chin, determined not to let Joffrey see that he could still ruin her mood.

“Well, well, it’s the Stark bitches,” Joffrey said loudly, smiling nastily. Sansa regarded him coolly while Arya threw him a dangerous glare.

“Well, well, if it isn’t a nutsack,” Arya said cheerfully. “Oh, that’s just your face.”

Joffrey returned her glare and opened his mouth to say something, but Sansa cut him off. “As much as I’d like to listen to the two of you trade middle school insults to one another all day, I think it’s better if we all act like adults,” she looked pointedly back at Joffrey. “Just walk away.”

“Why would I do that?” He asked her, shrugging his slender shoulders. “What, haven’t you missed me, Sansa? I’d imagine the single life is quite lonely since I dumped you.”

He was putting on a show, even Sansa knew that. _She_ had been the one to dump _him_ , but that was hardly worth mentioning. Plastering on a fake smile, she said, “It’s quite refreshing, actually. No whiney man-child to deal with on a daily basis.” _Speaking of middle school insults_ , she thought wryly, though she wouldn’t take it back now because his face was priceless.

Joffrey’s lip curled in disgust and he pointed a finger at Sansa. “Funny that you’re willing to insult someone with an actual career. All you do is sit in front of a camera and play with makeup for a living…”

“Quite a decent living,” Sansa cut in, surprised by her impoliteness, even in _this_ situation.

Joffrey scoffed and turned to Arya, his mouth twisting into a nasty grin. “And you,” he said gleefully, “you’re a glorified baby-sitter for my _grandfather’s_ pet project. As much as you Starks look down your nose at Lannisters, it’s interesting that you agreed to work for one. The fact that he’s paying you even a small salary is laughable. He must feel sorry for you.”

Arya was fuming, her eyes flashing at Joffrey, full of danger, but the idiot was too blind to see it. Sansa doubted very much that Tywin Lannister had ever felt sorry for anyone. She stood up then and grabbed her iced coffee.

“Come on, Arya. Let’s get out of here,” she told her sister, wanting to avoid any physical confrontations, which was always a possibility when Arya and Joffrey were in the same room.

Arya stood up, never taking her eyes off Joffrey, and gathered her things. Joffrey turned back to Sansa, that ugly smile still gracing his lips. “Hate to see you go. Thought we could be civil, reminisce about the good old days,” he said mockingly and reached out his hand to touch Sansa’s cheek.

“Don’t touch me!” She snapped and then, without consciously knowing what she was doing, threw her coffee into Joffrey’s face. She slammed the cup down on the table and moved out of his way lest he decide to grab her. He gasped and sputtered and the girl who’d accompanied him rushed over, cooing about her ‘poor Joff’.

The coffee shop had gone silent and Sansa’s face heated with embarrassment. She felt small fingers enclose her wrist and she realized Arya was coaxing her to the exit. Sansa let herself be led out of the coffee shop, but not before the other patrons began whispering amongst themselves. Once outside, Sansa took a deep breath and met Arya’s eyes.

“You think anyone noticed who I am?” Sansa asked her.

Arya shrugged, “I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. Just needed to get you away from that little shit-stain.”

They walked along the sidewalk downtown in silence, Sansa trying to process just what had led her to throw coffee in someone’s face. She wasn’t sure she’d ever publicly acted out in such a way. It wasn’t like her to let her anger manifest into physical action, and though she knew Joffrey wasn’t harmed, he was sure to be humiliated. And _pissed_.

“Too bad it wasn’t hot coffee,” Arya mused when they reached the parking garage where Sansa had left her car.

Sansa’s eyes widened, “Arya! _That_ could have hurt him.”

Arya shrugged. “He deserves some physical pain. Public humiliation isn’t enough. I almost want to go back and…”

“No,” Sansa said firmly, unsure whether or not Arya was joking. “We shouldn’t have even spoken to him.”

They both climbed in Sansa’s car and were quiet for a few minutes as Sansa maneuvered her way out of the parking garage and into traffic. Sansa was distracted by what she’d done, and embarrassment was starting to plague her. She felt as though she’d stooped to his level. In fact, Sansa wouldn’t be surprised if Joffrey had _wanted_ her to break her composure to do something rash, if only so that he could point out how unstable she was in the future.

Speaking of my new job,” Arya said, staring out the window, avoiding Sansa’s eyes. “Are you still coming to support me tomorrow?”

“What’s tomorrow?” Sansa asked distractedly.

Arya made a noise of frustration. “The tryout, San!”

“Oh, I suppose. Why do you need me there for the tryout? I like the tournaments and occasionally the practices, but a tryout…”

“Because I am, in fact, employed by Tywin Lannister and it would be nice to have another Stark around for some moral support.”

“I’ll be there,” Sansa assured her. Her heart went out to her sister. She was freshly out of college and had aspirations to be a college softball coach. Currently working on her master’s degree, Arya was desperately trying to get her foot in the door and gain some experience in coaching. She’d coached recreational and travel ball teams before, but this was different. All of Arya’s previous positions had been on a voluntary basis. But then the owner of the Lion Pride organization had got in touch with her via social media and had offered her a paid position. 

The salary was pathetically small, but it was a start. Besides, most youth softball coaches didn’t get paid, so it was a great opportunity for Arya to do what she loved, get some experience, and earn a little bit of money while she was at it. The Lion Pride organization had been around for close to thirty years, Tywin having formed it originally for his son, Jaime, who had shown promise as a baseball player. About a decade into its existence, the organization had expanded to include softball and now boasted both softball and baseball teams from 8U to 18U. 

Tywin, for his part, had very little to do with the actual sports in the present day. But he made sure the facilities and equipment he provided were top of the line. He was a wealthy businessman by trade and had plenty of resources to pour into his “pet project” as Joffrey called it.

Sansa’s phone dinged, but she ignored it as she made it a habit not to mess with it while driving. Arya’s dinged a moment later, followed by another notification on Sansa’s. And then another. The sisters shared a curious look, so Arya reached for her phone. Sansa gave Arya a minute to read whatever notification she received, then said, “What is it?”

“Ummm,” Arya’s face was unreadable when Sansa glanced over.

“Has something happened with mom or dad? Robb? What’s going on?” Sansa’s phone went off again and her anxiety heightened. “Arya!” 

Arya let out a long, noisy sigh. “I think maybe someone recognized you,” she said.

“Recognized me? At the coffee shop?”

“Yep.”

“Arya, tell me _right now_ what is going on!” They stopped at a red light and Sansa turned to throw her sister a warning glare. Arya was unfazed, as usual, but turned her phone’s screen toward Sansa.

The breath left her body in whoosh as she watched herself snap at Joffrey _“Don’t touch me!”_ and then threw the coffee in his face. The description of the video read: _YouTube Makeup Queen Throws Temper Tantrum in Coffee Shop_.

“Oh, Gods,” Sansa moaned, not noticing that the light had changed until the car behind her gave an angry honk of its horn.

“Don’t sweat it, San. I wouldn’t be surprised if right after we left, Joffrey went around asking people if they’d got that on video.”

“But…who is just randomly filming at a coffee shop?”

Arya snorted, “Everybody? You know at the slightest sign of a fight that people pull out their phones. The person who did it may not have even known who you were. They probably started filming because Joffrey was being such a prick.”

“Well, is there anything in that clip showing what he said to us?”

“Errr, no. There isn’t. But who knows when they started filming or if it’s been edited?”

“This is not good, Arya. The _one_ time I resort to physical violence and…”

“Physical violence?” Arya interrupted. “San, you didn’t even touch him. You threw iced coffee on him, for Seven’s sake!”

“People don’t know the context!” She insisted, feeling worse by the minute. “For all that video shows, Joffrey could’ve been one of my viewers coming up to speak to me only to have coffee tossed in his face. Gods!” She smacked the steering wheel in a rare outburst. “I don’t know what to do. Do I do damage control and immediately apologize, or do I just ignore it completely?”

“I don’t know. Maybe give it a couple of days? It may not be as bad as what you’re thinking…”

“It’s certainly not good,” Sansa said, hating that she’d gotten herself into this situation.

Once they arrived at their shared apartment, Sansa mustered up the courage to look at her phone. Several of her fellow YouTubers had texted her, asking about the video. None of them were judgmental, but simply wondering what had brought on such an unexpected reaction. She opened the video on YouTube, posted by someone she didn’t know, and took a look at the comments.

_“What a fucking diva! Never seen her videos but you can tell she’s a stuck-up bitch.”_

_“Wow! I can’t believe she did that! She always seemed so nice!”_

_“I’d sue her if I was that guy.”_

_“She probably thinks she’s better than everyone just because she’s got a successful channel. Bet she thinks she’s some kind of celebrity.”_

_“So was the guy just approaching her because he recognized her? I think I need more context before I make a judgment against this girl. She looks legit upset that he touched her.”_

_Need more context indeed_ , Sansa thought, upset that the video hadn’t shown their entire exchange, though it didn’t excuse her behavior. Already upset with the backlash she was bound to face, she turned her phone off and collapsed on the couch. Arya was rummaging around in the kitchen, clearly trying to plan what they’d eat for supper. She poked her head around the corner and eyed Sansa.

“It’s okay, San. Just…just give it a couple of days to die down before you apologize. That little dick deserved more than coffee in the face and if people had seen the whole incident, I doubt they’d question your motives.”

Sansa flopped down face first and buried her face in the cushions. “This is just one more way for Joffrey to make my life shit. We’ve been broken up for more than a year and he still manages to get under my skin.”

“I know this doesn’t go far in making you feel better, but had it been me, I would’ve done much worse.”

“I’m not you, Arya!” Sansa mumbled loudly into the pillow. “Did I just ruin my career?”

“Seven hells, Sansa, don’t be so dramatic.” Sansa could practically _hear_ the eyeroll that accompanied those words. 

Sansa lifted her head and glared at her sister. “I don’t think you respect the gravity of the situation.”

Arya disappeared back into the kitchen, calling back, “Maybe not, but I definitely respect you standing up to that worm-lipped shithead.”

Sansa lay there, worry settling into her belly as she thought of the things people were saying about her. She wished she could be more like Arya, not caring what people thought of her, but the fact was that she was something of a public figure and had now publicly humiliated a member of the richest, most influential family in the city. Deep down, Sansa knew that she had only helped Joffrey. This incident would fuel his hatred for her, and he would soak in every bit of negative energy that people had to say about her and use it to his advantage. 

To make matters worse, she had agreed to show face at Arya’s softball tryout the next day, where Joffrey’s grandfather would surely show up as well.

_I may be in over my head._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've noticed that for some reason, I never have Sansa and Sandor interact until chapter 3 in my stories. Weird. I swear I don't plan it that way.


	3. What kind of fresh hell have I gotten myself into?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Softball tryouts and first meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been updating my stories every 6 days but got behind...so it's 2 days late. Sorry! This week was literal hell and I wasn't in the mood to edit until today. Also, this chapter is almost twice as long as the last one so...yeah. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Next chapter will include: Adventures in Ulta with Daddy Sandor :)

Sandor knocked on his daughter’s door and heard a scuffling on the other side. “Skylor!” He knocked again. “You’re going to be late!”

“Come in!” She called.

He opened the door and cursed under his breath at the mess. She’d never been a very organized kid, and now there were various colors of softball pants and jerseys scattered along the floor. “What the hell is this?”

She was standing just inside her closet door, struggling to pull a belt through the loop in her pants. Exasperated, she said, “I had to figure out what to wear, obviously.”

Sandor stood there, staring at her as though she had three heads. “It’s a tryout. For softball. Why is it important what you wear?”

She rolled her eyes as if he was the biggest idiot she ever encountered and impatience clouded her features as though she just did _not_ have time to explain to him something so obvious. She sighed heavily as she finally managed to fasten her belt. “Well, I can’t wear an actual jersey from an old team because that just seems disrespectful…so I had to choose a plain old dry fit jersey,” here, she indicated the black one she had chosen to wear, “and then I have to choose pants to go with it.”

Sandor looked around at the five or six pairs lying in the floor. “And that was a difficult decision…why?”

“Well, I can’t wear black pants with a black jersey and a black belt. Too dark. I didn’t want to wear any of my white or light grey pants because they have old stains on them. My green pants don’t fit any more and the navy ones just look weird with black…”

Sandor dragged his hand over his face, already exhausted with Skylor’s explanation. He eyed the red pants she was wearing before his eyes slid to her pink and white tie-dye socks. “So you’re telling me that you carefully picked out what to wear to this tryout, yet you’re still wearing those socks?”

Her hands went to her hips, indignation written across her face. “The socks are lucky, Dad! Remember? These are the ones I wore that time I struck out eight batters in a row. They are _also_ the ones I wore when I hit that triple and we scored two runs off that hit.”

“Still didn’t get a homerun,” he teased her. She just glowered at him, her face looking so much like his at that moment that he had to hold in a laugh. “Hurry up. They may decide not to take you if you get there late.”

On the ride over, Skylor showed no signs of nerves, despite her carefully picked uniform and lucky socks. She changed his radio station, turned it up, and was singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” off key while he wondered if this new team might be a good fit for her. Her previous team had disbanded due to the coach’s daughter no longer wanting to play softball. The other eleven girls had been forced to look for other teams. Sandor knew that some of Skylor’s old teammates would probably be at this tryout and hoped that would make the transition easier for her, not that she seemed overly concerned about it.

“Galileo! Figaro! Magnificooooo!!” Skylor’s eyes were closed and her arms were spread wide, caught up in her front-seat performance. The driver of the car riding along beside them was ogling his adorably weird daughter.

“Fuck’s sake,” Sandor muttered. 

“This is my ‘get pumped’ music,” Skylor explained as she waved at the driver of the other car, who looked away quickly.

“Of course it is.”

When they finally arrived at the field, the small parking lot was already crowded. Sandor managed to find a spot and whipped in quickly. Before he’d even cut the engine, Skylor had hopped out and run around the back, eager to grab her bat bag and go. Sandor unlocked the tailgate so she could pull it down and before he had locked the truck, Skylor had run off, yelling to a former teammate she’d noticed. He grabbed a bucket of softballs out of the back of his truck, just in case, and slammed the tailgate shut.

Sandor walked slower, noticing that many of the people who had showed up for the tryout were from teams Skylor had gone up against or teams they’d been on. He nodded at the people who waved and made his way down to the field, where Skylor had already found someone to warm up with. One of the moms of a girl Skylor had played again caught up with him.

“Hey, you’re Skylor’s dad, right?”

He glanced up and tried to remember the woman’s name. Tracey? Stacey? But then, she had referred to him as Skylor’s dad, so she probably didn’t remember his name either. He gave a nod and said, “Sandor.”

“Right! I’m Lily’s mom, Kacey. I don’t know if you remember, but Skylor and Lily used to play against each other all the time in rec ball. We haven’t seen each other since Skylor started playing travel ball, but now Lily is going to give it a try too! How have you been?”

Sandor suppressed a groan, not really in a very chatty mood – not that he ever was – and wishing Lily’s mom would go find someone else to talk to.

“Fine,” he said, as politely as he could manage considering he gave her a one-word answer. Then, remembering that all this was for Skylor, forced himself to ask, “You?”

“Oh, we’ve been good. Lily’s made a lot of improvements and just needed to be challenged a bit more, so we figured we’d give this travel ball thing a shot. Her dad and I split up recently and it’s been hard for her without him around to help her practice…”

 _Fuck, how did I get myself into this_ , he thought, giving a singular nod, hoping it conveyed that he was sympathetic, though he wasn’t. Then he remembered that Kacey had sort of shown interest in him before. She had flirted with Sandor a lot at tournaments, but he figured she’d flirted with everyone. It had been his own daughter, only ten at the time, who had informed him that he was dumb and oblivious if he insisted that Kacey didn’t like him. _Double fuck_.

Sandor walked to the first base dugout and set his ball bucket down. Kacey sat her folding chair nearby, but thankfully ceased conversation for the time being. Sandor studied the field, trying to discern which girls he knew and finding it rather difficult since they were all wearing face masks. As the girls warmed up, he saw what he assumed were the coaches and the owners of the organization talking to small groups of parents.

There was a tall man, though not near as tall as himself, wearing light-colored dress pants and a crimson colored golf shirt among the coaching staff. Next to him was a short girl with dark hair pulled up into tight ponytail. She looked young, but not young enough to be on the team. Some distance away from the pair were a couple of younger men as well and Sandor figured they made up the coaching staff. His eyes moved back to the tall, older man.

 _Must be Tywin Lannister_ , he thought, noting the man appeared to be in his late-sixties or early-seventies. From what Sandor had heard, Tywin Lannister had stopped coaching a long time ago, but he’d been the one to start the Lion Pride organization for his son, who’d played travel baseball all the way through school, and then played college as well. The fields and the indoor facility were top-notch, Tywin having poured much of his own money into the equipment.

Sandor was impressed with what he saw already. The dirt on the softball field was actually crushed brick and there were no divots or holes to be seen that were normally present on practice fields. Despite the fact that it wasn’t technically softball season, there were no weeds growing in the outfield and no yellow patches of grass to be seen either. Lannister had also provided a caged bullpen area to the side of the dugouts for relief pitchers to warm up during games without disturbing the spectators.

Off to his right, Kacey gave a dramatic gasp and jumped out of her seat. She dashed over to the fence, her eyes trained on something just passed home plate. “Oh my goodness! It’s _her_.”

Sandor was planning on ignoring the outburst, but Kacey looked at him with wide eyes and pointed. Suppressing the urge to tell her how rude it was to point to someone, his eyes flicked over to home plate. No one was standing there, but there was a familiar figure just outside the fence. His eyes widened too. _The fuck?_

“ _That_ is Sansa from Sansa’s Makeup Chair, I just know it!” Kacey exclaimed, still ogling the redheaded figure off in the distance. “If it’s not her, I’ll eat my shoe!”

 _Might be I’ll shove it down your mouth for you_ , Sandor thought grouchily, trying to discreetly make out the woman to determine if she was, in fact, the makeup queen that his daughter followed. Even from a distance, Sandor was pretty sure it was the same woman. Her copper hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders. He knew, logically, that the Sansa lady was not the only pretty redhead, but he tended to agree with Kacey: if that wasn’t her, then she had a doppelganger.

Kacey turned back to him, eyes still wide, and suddenly looking scandalized. “Have you ever heard of her?”

“Umm,” he wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was a forty-year-old man after all and certainly had no business watching makeup tutorials. “Skylor watches her,” he finally admitted.

“So do I!” Kacey exclaimed. “But I don’t know how I feel about her after watching that clip of her.”

 _That_ piqued Sandor’s curiosity. What kind of clip could possibly change someone’s opinion of a makeup influencer? Just as his mind formed the question, a handful of scandalous ideas entered his mind. Had she been caught naked somewhere? Had an errant wind caught her skirt in public, lifting it to show that she wasn’t wearing underwear? Had she made a sex tape that had now leaked? He was ashamed of himself for even thinking those things, but those were the most obvious options of what might have happened to make Kacey look so appalled.

Kacey peeked over her shoulder at him, “Have _you_ seen the clip? You may want to monitor what Skylor’s watching if she’s a fan of Sansa’s.”

Hating that he was taking the bait, he asked in his most bored tone, “What’d she do?”

Kacey hurriedly pulled out her phone, seemingly eager to spread gossip. She scrolled through her phone as she said, “I can’t believe you haven’t heard about this! It happened yesterday, but you know how fast word travels nowadays…”

“I don’t keep up with makeup queens,” he said flatly.

Kacey looked up at him, blinked, and then gave a tittering laugh, “Oh, of course not. Well, here’s the video. Take a look for yourself!”

She tilted her phone toward him and he bent down to watch the clip. Some thin, blonde pretty boy was sneering at two women – one being Sansa and the other being a small, dark-haired girl whose back was to the camera. The blonde reached to touch Sansa’s face and she shrieked, _“Don’t touch me!”_ and tossed a cup of coffee in his face. Sandor surmised it must have been iced coffee since the blonde fellow wasn’t screaming in agony. He stood back up and glanced down at Kacey, who was looking at him expectantly.

He was a little confused and he found himself scratching at his beard as he tried to question Kacey without seeming like a dick. “Uh, is that it?”

Kacey blinked at him several times, her eyes growing wider every time she reopened them. “Well, yeah, she _threw_ _coffee_ into someone’s face.”

“Oh, well, he, uh, appears to be okay,” Sandor pointed out. Sandor had done much worse than throw iced coffee on someone, so he was having a hard time seeing what the scandal was.

Kacey huffed impatiently, “Yes, I’m sure he’s fine, but did you see how _rude_ she was? I always thought she was sweet and down-to-earth, but evidently she’s your typical celebrity, too good to be touched by some peon.”

Sandor almost wanted to watch the video again to see if he’d missed something. Sansa’s action had definitely been rude, but the blonde kid had touched her. He imagined that he could do much worse if some stranger came up to him and tried to touch him. Unbelievably, he found himself opening his mouth to defend her, “Might be she doesn’t like being touched?”

Kacey’s mouth dropped open. “That doesn’t matter! She’s famous! Or…well, YouTube famous, but enough people know her that it shouldn’t be a shock to her when she’s recognized. And she definitely shouldn’t throw any kind of beverage on her fans!”

“You think the blonde guy is a fan?” He looked at her skeptically.

Kacey looked further scandalized. “Men wear makeup too, Sandor. You shouldn’t judge.”

He had nothing to say to that because he hadn’t realized he was _judging_ anyone; it was just that the blonde guy didn’t come across as someone meeting their idle. He’d had meanness etched into his features and Sandor wondered if maybe something had happened _before_ the recording had started. 

“I wonder why she’s here,” Kacey said, studying Sansa and not bothering to be discreet. “Surely she’s too young to have a twelve-year-old child? Though I suppose that knowing your way around makeup could help.” Sandor said nothing as she went on, “Or maybe she’s married or dating someone who has a daughter on the team?”

Skylor ran over, interrupting Sandor’s Kacey’s vocal ruminations, and asked if he could help warm her up for pitching. He grabbed his bucket of balls and the two of them took a place inside the caged bullpen. He dug his catcher’s mitt out of the bucket, grabbed a few balls, then tossed one to Skylor, who started her wrist snaps.

“You know a lot of these girls?” He asked as she snapped the ball into his glove.

Skylor nodded. “I know at least half of them. This is a completely new team. The girls from the 12U team last season all moved up.” Skylor scooted back about halfway and began her next exercise. 

“So which one is the coach? Figured it out yet?”

Skylor nodded. She stopped her warm up to look out over the field. He could see her squinting through her mask as she searched, then she pointed. “You see that lady standing near second base? She’s our coach.”

Skylor tossed him a softball and before throwing it back he turned to get a look at the new coach. She was the one standing next to Tywin Lannister who looked barely old enough to be out of high school. She was wearing black athletic leggings and a hoodie. She was turned toward him now and he could see the details on her pixie-like face. Aside from her short stature, her face only furthered Sandor’s assessment that she didn’t appear much older than the girls she was going to coach. He looked back at his daughter and tossed her a ball.

“She looks shorter than every girl out here,” Sandor remarked.

“Not every girl,” Skylor allowed. “One of the girls trying out for short stop is under five feet and Coach Stark said she’s five feet, one inch.”

Sandor snorted. “How old is this girl?”

“She probably wouldn’t like it if you called her ‘girl’, Dad.”

“How do you know?”

Skylor shrugged as she backed up to the forty-foot mark. “I talked to her a little bit. She seems like she’s going to be a hard-ass.”

“Skylor,” he growled at the use of her language.

She shrugged again, “Well, that’s what you would say! Anyway, she’s twenty-two, so definitely not a girl.”

Skylor started her wind up and her first pitch threw him off guard, reaching him much slower than her normal fastball would. He narrowed his eyes. “Since when did you start out throwing a change-up?”

She grinned at him. “Since you expected me to burn one in on the first pitch. Besides, who’s going to expect a change-up first thing?”

“You think you’re clever,” he said, unable to stop the grin taking over his mouth. “But you’re going to pull that shit and someone is going to get a homerun off your first pitch. We’ll see how much you brag after _that_ happens.”

They warmed up for several minutes until Skylor felt like she was ready, then she hurried back onto the field. She approached the pitching rubber slowly, seemingly unsure if the coach was ready for her to display her skills. The little coach turned and beckoned her over quickly, then looked around.

“Where’s our catcher?” The coach shouted, not at all sounding like the little mouse Sandor had expected.

“Still getting her equipment on, Coach!” Someone hollered from the third base dugout. 

Coach Stark looked around, her eyes falling on Sandor. “You’re Skylor’s dad, yeah? Can you come out and catch her until Brooke gets all of her gear on? I’m Arya Stark, by the way,” she gave him a nod as he trotted back out with his catcher’s mitt.

He stood behind the plate, crouching down in position. For some reason, he was very aware of the beautiful redhead standing just a few feet behind him. Sandor appreciated beauty as much as the next heterosexual man, but wasn’t ever so _aware_ of a woman’s presence that it made him uneasy. A sweet scent wafted through the hair that smelled vaguely of lemons and he somehow knew it was coming from _her_.

Skylor placed the ball of her left foot on the rubber with her toes in the front and placed her right toes on the back of the rubber. The coach was standing to her right, hands on her tiny hips, looking at Skylor with a critical eye. It may have been an intimidation tactic to make sure the girls could work under pressure, but if it was, the coach was going to be sorely disappointed in Skylor’s lack of nerves. 

Skylor lifted her glove and left hand in front of her forehead, then pulled both back to her left hip, hiding the ball all the while, and then burned the ball in on a straight line, popping Sandor’s glove and stinging his hand. He smirked when he looked over to see the coach’s face. Her eyes had gone wide. She turned toward the third base dugout.

“Anybody clock that?” She called out.

“Fifty-seven, Coach,” a sweet voice behind Sandor answered. He peeked over his shoulder to see that Sansa was holding a radar gun. Somehow he’d missed that. Her blue eyes darted down to his and she gave a friendly smile. He didn’t return it and quickly turned back around.

The coach turned to Skylor. “How long have you been pitching?”

Skylor thought for moment. “Close to four years, Coach.”

Coach Stark nodded and said, “Again.”

Sandor caught three fastballs in a row before Skylor decided to throw her change up. The coach apparently had no critiques as of yet, but she seemed to be watching his daughter in wonder. The catcher finally came out and traded places with Sandor. He went back out the gate, standing near the dugout as he watched her wow the audience.

The catcher, bless her, was having a difficult time catching the fastballs. Several of them popped out of her glove and a man, apparently her dad, came out of the third base dugout screaming, “Catch the damn ball, Brooke!”

Sandor frowned and glared at the man. The poor kid had clearly never caught a pitcher who threw as fast as Skylor, but the dad’s attitude rubbed Sandor the wrong way. Eventually, the girls traded places, allowing others to try out for various positions. Skylor got to show off her skills as an outfielder and first baseman as well. Her hitting looked better than it had in a while too.

At the end of practice, the coach asked if she could pitch a little more and Skylor jumped at the opportunity. Sandor was asked to come catch for her again since some of the assistant coaches were working with the girls trying out for catcher. He once again squatted down behind home plate. She took a little longer to get set ready and when he eyed her suspiciously, she gave him a sneaky grin.

 _Ah, fuck, now what??_ He had no idea what his own kid was about to do and he wasn’t sure how to prepare himself for it. She took a deep breath before stepping onto the rubber, went into her wind up, and let loose a hard fastball.

It looked like it was going to be high and way outside for a right-handed batter. The ball curved deeply to Sandor’s right, but at the last minute, curved back inward and dropped, flying over the plate and thumping into his glove. He stared down at his glove and then back up at Skylor, who was trying and failing to not look pleased with herself.

“Whoa, what the heck was _that_?” The coach exclaimed. She’d been standing at the fence behind Sandor, seemingly talking to Sansa. He turned to her with what must have been a blank look because he had no idea.

Skylor trotted over, beaming happily. “Notice anything different?”

“Did you mean to do that?” He asked quietly, unsure if the coach needed to hear if that nasty movement had just been an accident.

“Pffffttt,” Skylor shook her head. “Of course I meant to do it. I, uh,” her eyes darted behind Sandor to her coach. “I threw a two-seam fastball instead of a four-seam.”

“That was incredible,” Sansa exclaimed behind him. Sandor stood up, his knees popping, and caught sight of his daughter’s face. Even through the mask, he could see that her mouth was hanging open and her grey eyes had gone wide. She was staring past him, clearly having discovered who had paid her the compliment.

 _I wonder if fangirl is the right word here_ , Sandor wondered as he watched Skylor. She hadn’t paid attention to who was standing behind home plate all this time and once she’d realized it was her beauty guru, she’d been immediately star-struck. She was beside Sandor in an instant, removing her face mask as she ogled at Sansa. The YouTube star beamed at his daughter. “That was very impressive,” she said, complimenting her for the second time and making Skylor’s face turn an interesting shade of red.

“Who, me?” She said dumbly. Sandor closed his eyes, praying for patience with his nutty kid. When he reopened them, they went to Sansa. He was having a difficult time looking away from her.

Sansa smiled again while the coach cocked her head to the side curiously, clearing trying to figure out why her star pitcher had suddenly turned into an idiot. “Yes, of course. The movement on that pitch was insane.”

Coach Stark nodded along. “The curve and then the drop – that was great, Skylor. I think it’s safe to say you have a spot on this team. If you want it, that is,” the coach’s eyes darted to Sandor and he saw a spark of hope in them.

“Aye, we’re in,” he said, taking a look at Skylor to make sure it’s what she wanted, though thankfully he already knew it was because she was too busy staring at Sansa like some weirdo.

He found his eyes drawn back to her again too, but she was already looking at him. When she realized he’d caught her, her eyes darted away and a blush crept up onto her cheeks. _Oh, right, the fucking scar_ , he thought, trying not to let his temper get the best of him. He was ready to leave now that the tryout was basically over and Skylor had been offered a spot, but his star-struck daughter clearly had other ideas and she’d finally found her voice.

“You’re Sansa from Sansa’s Makeup Chair?” She asked, stepping closer to the fence. The question was unnecessary, he knew. Skylor was well aware of who she was.

The coach wrinkled her nose and looked behind her where Sansa stood, cutting her eyes at the other woman. “You _would_ get noticed,” she commented. 

“I am,” Sansa answered Skylor as she smiled and cut her eyes at the coach. “And I guess you’re the stud pitcher that Arya was telling me about?”

“Huh?” Sandor said, though he hadn’t intended to speak.

“Uhhh…ummm…” Skylor had lost her voice again apparently.

“Yep, that’s her,” the coach confirmed. She scratched the side of her face, eyes flitting away from Skylor’s. “I kind of heard that you might be trying out and I was pretty happy about it,” she explained, clearly trying to play it cool.

“You heard about me?” Skylor said in a squeaky voice Sandor didn’t recognize.

Arya nodded. “So I guess my dear sister isn’t the only popular one here tonight, huh?”

“I’m popular?” Skylor squeaked again, making Sandor want to tug on her ponytail in an attempt to reset whatever had caused her brain to fry.

“It would seem so,” Sandor muttered, drawing the redhead’s eyes again. _Fuck, she’s gorgeous_.

“I’ve heard about you, let’s put it that way,” Arya said. “And yes this is _the_ Sansa. Also known as my older sister,” she added, giving Sansa a wry look.

“I-I watch your videos _all_ the time,” Skylor said, creeping closer to the fence.

“Really?” Sansa said. “Do you like them?”

Skylor nodded, “I don’t actually have any makeup, but…I _love_ your videos. My dad is taking me to Ulta after we leave here.”

 _Well, fuck. Forgot about that_. He grimaced at the thought of being dragged into a store specializing in makeup. 

“You have great skin,” Sansa told his daughter, seeming sincere.

“Thanks to you!” Skylor gushed. 

Sandor stared at his daughter, wondering where this strange child had come from. _And what the fuck did she do with my tomboy??_

“Oookkkayyy, so…” Coach Stark’s eyes bounced between her sister and her new pitcher. “I’ve got to talk to some other parents, but I guess I’ll text you when I schedule the first practice?” She looked to Sandor, who nodded, and then she darted off, her sister and his kid clearly making her uncomfortable.

“Well, uh, we need to go,” Sandor said, dreading the trip to Ulta. He wasn’t even sure where it was.

Skylor was still looking at Sansa in wonder. “My dad is about to be put through torture,” she said gleefully.

Sansa giggled and looked back up at Sandor, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m sure he’ll pull through it fine. He’s a big boy,” as the words left her mouth, her eyes slid from his face, over his chest, down his legs, and up again. Sandor scowled. _Aye, I’m a freakishly big fucker, Red. What of it?_

“I think I can handle it,” he told Skylor, still trying to avoid addressing Sansa. He was too worried he would say something moronic. He turned to go, but found that Skylor was still standing in front of the fence, staring at Sansa. “Come on, you creep,” he said.

“Okay,” Skylor said, but hadn’t moved an inch. “Miss Sansa, do you have any…would you have any…I don’t know, suggestions for me? This is the first time I’m buying makeup.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Sansa smiled brightly. “Actually, I’ve been needing to pick up an eyeshadow pallete I wanted to review. A lot of brands send me products to test, but I haven’t dealt with this particular brand, so…I could meet you there and help you out, if you want.” Sansa’s blue, blue eyes shot to Sandor. “That is, if it’s okay with your parents?”

Skylor nodded enthusiastically and then her head snapped around to her dad, as though she’d just remembered he was standing there. “Dad, can she…please? If she’s going and we’re going,” she shrugged and raised her eyebrows as though to say, _“what could it hurt”_.

 _Seven buggering hells_. He narrowed his eyes dangerously as he shot his daughter a glare. Of course, Skylor was completely unaffected by his mean face and just stood there, staring wide-eyed and innocently as if she wasn’t majorly inconveniencing him by making him go to Ulta _and_ socialize.

“Fine,” he said finally, then spun on his heel, stomping off to collect his bucket.

_What kind of fresh hell have I gotten myself into?_


	4. It’s too damn bright in here and it smells weird.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa considers what she's gotten herself into and helps Skylor with some essentials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's late. I'm sorry. But my kid is also a softball player and the practices are now in full-swing and my schedule is soooo hectic.
> 
> Thankfully, my ball player decided not to play basketball this year so I actually have SOME free time :) hopefully chapter 5 won't take as long as chapter 4 to get posted.

Sansa sat behind the wheel of her car, having already pulled over to the truck that Skylor had described as her dad’s, and wondered just what in the world she was doing. 

Her parents would tell her that this was dangerous. She’d never met these people and yet here she was, having them follow her to Ulta so that she could help this stranger’s kid pick out some makeup. Her argument, of course, would be that she was in her own car going to a very well-lit public place.

 _But what if he follows you after you leave?_ Sansa could practically hear Catelyn Stark’s overprotective voice in her head. But that’s why she always had pepper spray and a stun gun handy. Since becoming well-known on YouTube, her father had insisted that she be prepared for nut-jobs who may want to approach her. She hadn’t had to use either of her small weapons yet, and hoped she never did.

_He’s so big though, would my little stun gun even affect him?_

The man had to be at least six and a half feet tall, if not a couple of inches over that, and Sansa bet he was two-hundred fifty pounds of solid muscle. 

She watched as Mr. Clegane’s truck backed up and then waited for her to pull in front of him. She did so and watched in the rearview as he followed her out of the parking lot. As she drove, she deliberated on just why she had offered something so personal to a kid she didn’t even know. Not that random acts of kindness were a rarity for Sansa; on the contrary, Arya was constantly picking on her about how she went out of her way to do good deeds. _“Sprinkling little drops of happiness everywhere you go”_ was how Arya had mockingly described it.

But doing small things to make others happy made Sansa happy. And Sansa was intrigued with this little girl for some reason; unlike Arya though, Sansa’s fascination wasn’t just because of her insanely impressive softball skills, though even Sansa could see that Arya had snagged a stud somehow. Sansa was just drawn to her and wanted to do something nice for her.

When Skylor had looked at her bashfully and asked for makeup advice, Sansa found herself _wanting_ to put in the extra work to help her rather than just offering some generic tips. If the girl wanted generic tips, she could watch any of Sansa’s videos. But Sansa had gotten swept up in the excitement in those sparkling grey eyes and hopeful smile and she’d been a goner.

The girl hardly looked like someone who would be interested in Sansa’s videos. Before the girls had put on their face masks, Sansa had noted that many of them were already wearing makeup. According to Arya, it was pretty normal for softball players to wear makeup to games. Quite a few softball players intricately braided their hair, wore a full face of makeup, and chose diamond-like stud earrings or pearl studs to look their best for games. _“Look good, play good,”_ Arya had mumbled in explanation once, rolling her eyes. Arya rarely participated in the philosophy, but seemed to accept that it was widespread. When Skylor pulled her mask off at the end of practice, she hadn’t been wearing any makeup. She’d revealed not long afterward that her dad was taking her for her first-ever shopping trip for beauty products.

Sansa wondered why it was Skylor’s dad taking her rather than her mom. Not that there was anything wrong with dads going on shopping trips with their daughters, but Sansa thought that if she had a tween daughter who was excited about makeup that she’d want to be with her that first time. Skylor’s dad looked less than enthused and Skylor had even mentioned that it would be torture for him. Sansa didn’t want to get into their business too much, but she did wonder why the mom wasn’t the one making the trip to Ulta.

But then, maybe Skylor’s mom was at work, or maybe she was like Arya and didn’t give a crap about makeup. Her sister had only worn it on rare occasions. Perhaps Skylor’s mom was similarly unenthusiastic about makeup. 

Sansa’s thought wandered to Skylor’s dad and her cheeks heated with embarrassment, though she was alone in her car and had no reason to be embarrassed. She’d noticed him immediately though. Who could miss someone that large? It was his mass that initially drew her eye when she noticed him near the first base dugout. Her first thought was, _oh my, he’s quite tall_ , quickly followed by, _oh my, he’s huge everywhere_.

A woman was sitting near him and chatting and Sansa initially thought that the woman may be his wife, but it became clear after a while that the woman was the mother of a different child. Sansa had watched as the girl warmed up, already knowing who she was because Arya had been talking to her before practice about her most-anticipated prospect. Then, when Skylor’s dad had walked out to warm her up on the field as well, Sansa realized he was even bigger than what she’d thought.

Sansa was as immediately intrigued with Skylor’s dad as she had been with Skylor. His height drew her attention first, but as he walked to home plate, she took in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his button down shirt stretched tightly across his chest, the musculature of his forearms where he’d pushed his sleeves to his elbows. His hair was longer than what she normally liked on men, falling onto his shoulders, but she found she didn’t mind it on him for some reason. He wore a full, thick beard, but it was trimmed neatly.

As he came closer though, she noticed extensive scarring on the left side of his face. It seemed to start somewhere on his scalp and extended at least to his neck, maybe further. Sansa flinched when she thought of what might have caused such a horrific scar. She didn’t study it for very long before he’d turned around and squatted, but she surmised that it must be a burn.

But when he squatted, all heavy thoughts of what had happened to him to cause the injury fled her mind. _How did I get so lucky to have this view_ was her first thought. It had been clear to her that he was well-built from the moment he got close enough for her to clearly see him, but _this_ – well, this was icing on the cake.

Sansa admonished herself as she thought about it on the way to Ulta. She was acting like a cat in heat, though thankfully she hadn’t tried to go rub herself against his legs…yet. What was the term for this guy that her friend Randa would’ve used? Snack. Yes, he was a snack.

Then, thinking about his size, _Nope, he’s a whole meal._

Sansa blushed again at her train of thoughts. _What is wrong with me?!_ It wasn’t as though she never had impure thoughts about men. She was just as appreciative of male beauty as any girl (maybe not as much as Randa). But the reaction to Skylor’s dad had been immediate and potent. Sansa was perplexed. She couldn’t remember ever having a reaction so instantaneous to anyone in her life. Plus, he wasn’t even her type.

 _Or maybe he_ is _my type and I had no idea what my type was until I saw it_ , she pondered as she pulled into the shopping center where Ulta was located. The black truck pulled into the spot next to her. Sansa checked herself in the mirror, smoothing down some stray hairs before she slid out of her car. Skylor was already at the back of her car, clearly trying to stay calm, though Sansa could practically feel the excitement rolling off the girl.

She realized she hadn’t gotten Skylor’s dad’s name, but then, she probably should just stick to calling him Mr. Clegane. Ever the polite lady, Sansa stuck her hand out when she reached Mr. Clegane, smiling slightly.

“I know we sort of met at the field, but there was a fence between us so… Nice to meet you. I’m Sansa Stark.”

Mr. Clegane looked down at her hand, bemused, then back up to her face. He reached out and wrapped her hand in his much larger one and gave her a firm handshake. “Sandor Clegane,” he rasped, looking away from her toward the storefront. “Let’s get this over with.”

When the three of them entered the store, Sansa carefully watched Skylor’s face. The girl’s eyes went wide with wonder and she clasped her hands under her chin. “I don’t know where to start,” she whispered.

Sansa laughed softly, giving Skylor a wide smile. “I’ll be happy to help with that.”

Sansa looked back at Mr. Clegane – Sandor – and had to suppress a giggle. His silver-grey eyes were narrowed in suspicion and he had a slight wrinkle to his nose, as though he didn’t like the smell of the place. His daughter seemed to notice it and smacked him lightly on the arm.

“Dad, stop making that face, you’re embarrassing me,” she hissed. 

He seemed to shake off his disgust, but then looked around skeptically. “It’s too damn bright in here and it smells weird,” he grumbled.

Sansa pressed her lips together to hold in her laugh and then turned to Skylor, “Any place in mind that you want to get started?”

The girl looked clueless and told Sansa as much.

“How about we start with skin care? That is, if it’s okay with your dad,” Sansa looked again at Clegane, who looked very much like he would take off running if she asked him any more questions. “I don’t know if you’ve set a limit for her or…”

His eyes flicked to Skylor, who was looking positively angelic, batting eyelashes as though she knew her dad wouldn’t be able to resist. His shoulders sagged a bit. “What all do you need?”

Skylor looked thoughtful as she considered. “Well, I need a moisturizer…”

“Like lotion?”

“Not just lotion, Dad. I’ve got some stuff for acne so I guess we can skip that,” she said, turning to Sansa. “But I would really like to get some foundation. Some mascara and blush would be great too. Maybe eyeshadow?”

“Is that the stuff that goes here?” Clegane poked a meaty finger at his eyelid and Skylor nodded. He shook his head. “I’m drawing the line there. None of that crazy stuff like your Aunt Marge wears.”

Skylor’s mouth dropped open. “Dad! Okay, I’m cool with you not wanting me to wear it yet, I get it, but Aunt Marge is gorgeous! And she does her makeup like a pro! You know, she watches Sansa too,” Skylor crossed her arms and frowned at her dad, clearly aggravated he had insulted ‘Aunt Marge’.

“It’s too much,” Clegane mumbled, then added. “None of that blush either.”

“Just because it’s _dramatic_ , doesn’t mean it’s too much, Dad. But I won’t get any.”

“Okay,” Sansa interjected, looking between father and daughter as she tried to get a plan together. “So, moisturizer, foundation, and mascara are fine, right?”

Sandor nodded, though he made a face at the words as though he wasn’t sure what they meant. Sansa bit her lip to keep from smiling. She started in the direction of the skin care products, but then an idea occurred to her and she turned to Skylor.

“You know, I think the best thing for you to start out with might be a BB cream or some other tinted moisturizer. That way, you’ve got the hydration you need and something to even out your skin tone. Might even be easier for you dad,” her eyes slid to big man hovering behind Skylor, still looking around the store as though he’d wandered into enemy territory. “Does that sound good?”

Skylor nodded enthusiastically, and then followed as Sansa led her over to the makeup, Sandor trailing after them. Sansa looked back over her shoulder to find that he was scowling at various random makeup products and had to hide another smirk. _Poor guy._ As they browsed through different brands like bareMinerals, Tarte, and NARS, Sansa took the time to study the girl who she’d agreed to help. She looked very much like her father and Sansa quickly put together that the reason she found Skylor to be so beautiful was because of the similarity.

Despite her profession, Sansa didn’t value people based on how they looked. When she’d seen Skylor, she had noted that she was a particularly pretty girl, but hadn’t thought much else about it. Now, she was able to study her more as Skylor rifled through various shades to determine what color would be best. She had thick, dark lashes, though they were short and straight. Though she had an olive complexion, a few freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose, likely because she spent so much time in the sun. Her hair was a complete mess from the tryouts, but it was black and glossy.

Sansa was torn from her admiration by a voice from the other side of Skylor.

“Can I help you?” It was a sales associate and she was eyeing Skylor with some suspicion.

Skylor looked up. “Oh, no thanks. I’m just looking.” She went back to perusing the shades, but the woman continued to eye her. 

Sansa grew frustrated as the woman continued to stand there and she heard a low rumble that she realized was a frustrated growl from Mr. Clegane. _Probably doesn’t appreciate people eyeing his kid like that. He probably knows how it feels._ It was true that Skylor’s pants were streaked with dirt, as was her face. Her hair was falling from its ponytail too. But it should have been clear that the kid had just come from practice. Sansa cleared her throat, catching the attention of the associate.

“She’s with me and we don’t need any assistance,” Sansa turned on a warm smile, despite the irritation. “Thank you though.”

The sales associate nodded and was reluctantly turning to go when she spun back around, wide eyes on Sansa.

 _Shoot_ , Sansa thought, the smile frozen on her face. _She knows who I am_. She wasn’t sure how this would go exactly, but she didn’t want her time with Skylor to be overshadowed by a fan. But the sales associate just gave her an assessing look, smiled, and then strode away. Skylor was oblivious to the whole exchange. She turned to Sansa and held up a tube of bareMinerals Complexion Rescue.

“What shade should I get?”

Sansa helped her dab some of the products on her wrist to determine the appropriate shade and then they moved on to find some mascara. Skylor seemed more confident in what she wanted her lashes to look like.

“I need lengthening, I know that much!” Skylor said.

Sansa suggested several of the brands that she had tried and liked. “I like Lancome Definicils and Tarte Maneater, but those are kind of pricey and since we’re spending a little more on the foundation, what do you think about Maybelline Stiletto or Loreal Telescopic?”

As Skylor held the two suggested mascaras in each hand, considering which she might want, Sansa heard Mr. Clegane clear his throat as he stepped closer to her.

“Thanks for this,” he rasped.

She looked up at him, caught off guard again by his impressive height. Sansa’s cheeks heated under his gaze. “It’s not a problem at all. I’m more than happy to help. I just hope I’m not overstepping any bounds.”

His brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Why would you be overstepping?”

“Well,” Sansa thought about how she should explain her worry about participating in a rite of passage with his daughter that her mom might have wanted to be here for. “I was worried that maybe her mom would want to do this with her. I know you probably wouldn’t think it important, but if I was a mom…”

He shook his head and she watched as a twitch formed in his jaw. His eyes darted up to Skylor, who had moved to the end of the next aisle over, clearly exploring other options. “Not a problem.”

Sansa nodded, somehow torn between not wanting to prod and being curious. “So she wouldn’t mind…”

“She’s not in Skylor’s life,” he said, tersely, not meeting her eyes.

“Oh,” Sansa immediately felt guilty for the prodding. She was worried she’d just unknowingly opened an old wound. Without knowing what to say, she muttered, “I’m sorry.”

His eyes snapped back to hers, hard and unrelenting. “The fuck are you sorry for? You weren’t the one who abandoned her.”

Sansa blushed again and looked away, suddenly very uncomfortable with how the conversation had turned. Thankfully, Skylor bounced back over and held up her choice. She was beaming, the dirt streaks on her face doing nothing to conceal how lovely she was. “Okay, I’m done. For now,” she added, her grin growing wider as she looked at her dad. 

After they checked out, they walked back to their cars and Sansa felt almost sad to have to part with Skylor. The girl turned to her and abruptly threw her arms around her. For the first time, Sansa realized how tall Skylor was for a twelve-year-old. Being a tall woman herself, Sansa was used to almost every other woman being shorter than her, and though Skylor wasn’t quite her height, she noticed the girl seemed to be only a couple of inches shy of matching Sansa’s height.

“Thank you so much for this,” Skylor said. “You didn’t have to do this, I know. It’s very cool that you did.”

“It was an honor,” Sansa said, patting Skylor on the back before the girl broke away. “I’m looking forward to watching you play this spring.”

“You’ll be at the tournaments?” Skylor asked excitedly.

“Of course,” Sansa smiled at her. “Arya is my sister and I try to support her as much as I can.”

“Well, thanks again,” Skylor seemed reluctant to move away, and her dad was similarly standing at the tailgate of his truck, seeming to want to say something, but staying quiet.

“I guess I should go,” Sansa said, turning to make her way to her door.

“Unless you want to grab something to eat with us.”

His offer startled Sansa so much that when she spun around, she almost fell on the pavement. She blinked over the top of her car at Skylor’s dad, who was peeking at her from the corner of his eye. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“My treat,” he added, jabbing at the thumb at Skylor, “For helping her with this.”

Sansa waited for the alarm bells to go off, waited to hear Catelyn’s voice in her head telling her that this was potentially dangerous and careless, but when nothing of the sort happened, she nodded, “I’d love that. Where to?”


	5. It's not like it was a sex tape or anything

Sandor could feel Skylor’s eyes on him as he drove to their favorite chicken place. He cut his eyes to the side and saw that she was studying him intently. He growled, which had no effect on her, then snapped, “What?!”

“Did you just ask her out on a date?” He could hear the smile in Skylor’s voice and wondered what he did deserve a vindictive little shit for a daughter.

“No.”

“Well, it sounded that way.”

“It didn’t sound any kind of way.”

“Do you like her?”

“No.”

“Then why would you ask her on a date?”

“It’s not a date, Skylor.”

“Do you think she’s pretty?”

“No.”

“Are you blind?!”

“Skylor,” he growled.

“Fine,” she relented, crossing her arms and looking out her window. He knew it wasn’t over though because Skylor was the kind of kid who dug in her heels. So it didn’t shock him at all when, not two minutes later, she said, “I think she’s pretty.”

They were stopped at a traffic light, so Sandor turned his attention to his daughter. She was back to studying him now, as though she could read his mind. Then, he remembered the coffee incident and decided to bring it up. “Heard she tossed coffee into someone’s face yesterday. You sure that’s someone you want to look up to?”

Skylor’s mouth dropped open in shock. “How would _you_ know about that?”

“I know stuff,” he sniffed, a little aggravated that she didn’t think he could keep up.

She made a noise that sounded like ‘ _pffffttt’_ and rolled her eyes. “Dad, please. You barely know how to work YouTube and you expect me to believe that you know about something that happened yesterday outside your own bubble?”

His brow pulled down as he wondered if his kid had just insulted him somehow. “Yes…?”

“How did you find out?”

“Lily’s mom,” he admitted.

Skylor suddenly looked scandalized. “WHY ARE YOU SUDDENLY TALKING TO ALL THESE WOMEN, DAD?”

“She was talking to me,” he said, and then tried to change the subject back to what he was interested in. “What does she have to say for herself about throwing coffee at that guy?”

“She hasn’t addressed it on her channel yet,” Skylor said, sounding a little unsure. “Why didn’t _you_ ask her?”

“Maybe I will.”

They drove on, Skylor fidgeting nervously, probably regretting giving him the idea to bring up something that may cause confrontation in front of her beauty idol. Sandor, on the other hand, kept remembering the bright lights of the makeup store and how hideous he must have looked with his scars on full display. He had gotten more than a few alarmed looks while he’d followed Skylor and Sansa around the store. When he wasn’t distracted by the women giving him horrified glances and then quickly looking away, he was fighting the urge to sneeze violently from all the different scents assaulting his nostrils.

The perfume counter was right in the middle of the store and it was as though someone had gone by and sprayed a bit from every bottle. He was suffering a headache within minutes from the potent mixture, and then trying to understand what Skylor and Sansa were discussing only made it worse. He hadn’t realized that once Skylor decided what brand she wanted that she then had to pick a specific color. It was all so complicated and the worst part was that she was just getting started.

They pulled up to the fast-food joint that he’d told Sansa and she pulled into the spot next to them. He wasn’t sure if taking her to a fast-food chicken joint was the appropriate thanks for what she’d done for his kid, but he didn’t want to send the wrong message by suggesting somewhere nicer. Plus, Skylor looked like she’d rolled in the mud for hours, so a fast-food joint would have to do.

The three of them walked in together and Sandor immediately ordered Skylor to go clean up as best she could in the bathroom and told her he’d get the usual. He and Sansa stood in line at the counter and placed their orders.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Sansa said as they took a seat in a booth. “I didn’t mind helping Skylor at all.”

Sandor watched her, her eyes big and blue and so honest-looking. She seemed to genuinely be happy to have helped. Without thinking, he blurted, “You don’t even know her though. What if she’s a turd? What if she’s a horrible child? What if she’s a bully? You may have randomly helped someone who didn’t deserve it.”

Sansa’s smile fell and she looked away. He hadn’t really meant to ruin her mood, but he was curious as how anyone could just choose to spend time with a kid that they knew nothing about. She must have been contemplating her answer, though, because she looked back and said, “No matter what she’s like, I still wanted to do it. Maybe she’s a horrible kid, I don’t know. You’re right; I don’t know her at all. But to be honest, Mr. Clegane, I would have done it for any of the kids if they’d asked it of me. I know she didn’t technically ask me to go with her and help her, but she asked for advice and I wanted to be the one to help her. It costs me nothing to be kind,” she smiled at him, and it was so fucking bright and beautiful that he had to look away from her.

Thankfully, Skylor reappeared then, sliding into the booth next to him, looking considerably cleaner. Their food was brought out shortly afterward and the three of them ate in mostly silence. It was Skylor, as usual, who broke the ice.

“So do you actually like softball or does Coach Stark make you watch for moral support?” Skylor was looking at Sansa with wide eyes, obviously still star-struck.

Sansa smiled at her, “Well, I actually really do enjoy it. I don’t have an athletic bone in my body, but for some reason I’m still very competitive. Arya has been playing since she was five years old and I’ve been watching her the whole time. I didn’t really start to get into it until she was your age though. She was a pitcher too.”

“Really?” Skylor sat up straighter. “I followed her in college, but I thought all she ever played was outfield.”

Sansa nodded, “She was told she was too short to be a pitcher, which our family thought was ridiculous. She pitched a few innings, but she’s barely over five feet, and her coach seemed to think that she just wasn’t big enough to generate the kind of power needed for an elite college pitcher. She pitched from the time she was nine years old all the way through high school though. And she’s like you. She’s a lefty.”

“I noticed that,” Skylor said. “Was she upset when she had to give up pitching?”

Sansa looked thoughtful. “Perhaps a bit, but I think she trusted her coach to know where she was needed most, which was centerfield. She’s very quick and her glove was the best on the team, so she was happy to be put to use in a position she loved.”

“I play centerfield too,” Skylor said. “And first base. But…I think I’m probably half-a-foot taller than the coach. And my doctor says I’m not done growing yet.” She grinned at Sansa and Sansa grinned back, seemingly enjoying the conversation. Sandor just watched them, perplexed that they were getting on so well. He’d expected things to be awkward once the shopping was done, but they were conversing easily.

They chatted some more, but Sandor tuned them out, all while fighting to keep his eyes of Sansa. _Fuck, she’s gorgeous._ Her eyes were a very light shade of blue and burned bright beneath her long eye lashes. She didn’t seem to be wearing a ton of makeup, though he was sure she must be wearing some because the lashes were black, and he remembered clearly that when she removed her makeup in the video that her lashes had been the color of her hair. He was finding that he was a little obsessed with her hair color. It was bright copper and shone like a new penny. He had an overwhelming urge to touch it, just to see if it was as soft as it looked. 

_She’s probably half your age, Dog._ He was a bit disgusted with himself. When was the last time a woman’s beauty had affected him so? Most of the women he’d come in contact with that were as outrageously attractive as Sansa were well-aware of their beauty and acted offended if he even glanced their way, as though he didn’t have the right to even look at them.

Skylor’s mom had been pretty too, but she was damaged like him: rough around the edges, looking for something to fill the holes in her soul, tortured by her past. Sandor hadn’t been able to drive away her demons and unfortunately, neither had Skylor. He hadn’t dated anyone seriously since she’d left them. There had been a few dates, some one-night stands, but his focus was on Skylor, so eventually he’d given up dating altogether. He didn’t need some woman to come into his life and try to dictate how he raised the child he’d taken care of on his own for all these years.

Of course, there was a woman who already did those things and he hadn’t yet found a way to shut her up. Skylor’s maternal grandmother and aunt were the only other blood relatives in her life. Sandor endured frequent threats from the grandmother that she would “take her away” and “make sure she was raised right”. As much as he wanted to cut all contact with the old woman and her meddling daughter, he couldn’t do it to Skylor.

But he noticed quickly that Skylor was different with Sansa than she was with her grandmother or aunt. He knew she loved her mom’s family, but there was always tension and she was well aware of it. There was none of that tension present as she sat and chatted with Sansa about softball and makeup and how she was looking forward to her new team. And Sansa listened to her. She didn’t juts humor her by making all the right faces and nodding along, she was genuinely engaged in conversation, interested in Skylor’s answers and replying with as much enthusiasm.

Sandor was interrupted from his thoughts by a poke to his ribs. He jumped a little, making Skylor giggle. “Can I get a milkshake?” She asked him, batting her eyelashes, though it was entirely unnecessary. There wasn’t a lot that he could deny her, certainly not a milkshake. He handed her some money and she went to stand in line.

“She seems like a good kid,” Sansa commented.

“She’s a great kid,” he said, watching Skylor turn to him and pout when she realized how long the line had grown and how long she’d be standing there.

“Does she have anyone – I mean, a female she can talk to about things?” Color dotted Sansa’s cheeks as she asked the question. Admittedly, it _was_ a personal question, especially since he’d told her Skylor’s mother wasn’t involved.

“She has a grandmother and an aunt,” he admitted. “And I have a buddy with a wife that she’s close to.”

Sansa nodded. “That’s good. I’m sure it’s hard for a preteen girl, not having her mother around.”

“We do okay on our own,” he said. He wasn’t really being defensive. He knew what Sansa meant, but she blushed again all the same.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that you fall short at all! I just know that the makeup thing, and boys, and…” she lowered her voice, “Periods…”

Sandor flinched so hard he almost knocked over his drink and Sansa snapped her mouth shut. He stared down at his empty plate for a second, wondering how the hells this conversation had turned so personal so quick. His eyes flicked back to Sansa and he finally decided to ask the question that had been gnawing at the back of his mind since she’d agreed to go to Ulta with them. “So, the guy you threw coffee on…?”

Color flushed her cheeks and her eyes darted down to her lap. She blushed a lot, but Sandor found that he kind of liked it. She also chewed nervously at her bottom lip to the point it distracted Sandor and he had to look away. _Get a grip, you dirty old man_.

“That was an unfortunate incident,” Sansa said finally. “I hope that you realize that that was not a normal display of my behavior.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know you, lady. I don’t know if you’re a spoiled brat who throws coffee on autograph seekers or if the dude was a dick who deserved it. Don’t know if it even matters at this point. Just curious, I guess.”

Sansa was wringing her hands, looking distressed at having the incident brought up, but if she was going to be spending time with his daughter at future tournaments, which he suspected was the case since it would be difficult to keep Skylor away from her, then he wanted to know the whole story. He waited patiently, his eyes shifting between where Skylor was standing in line and back to Sansa’s face.

He could tell that she was nervous, but he remained calm and relaxed, and eventually, she took a deep breath, sat up straighter and looked him in the eye. “The man in that video is my ex-boyfriend.”

_Oh. So there is more to the story_ , he thought, leaning forward on the table on his elbows as he studied her face. “And what did the ex-boyfriend do to deserve coffee to the face?”

Sansa shook her head. “Perhaps he didn’t deserve it in that moment. I suppose I could have been a bit…emotional. He and I did _not_ have an amicable split, you see. I knew from the moment he saw us that he would come over and try to start something. He insulted us and as we were leaving he…well, he touched me.” Her eyes dropped to her lap again as though she was ashamed. “He didn’t…when we were together, he didn’t treat me…gently, let’s say. So when he touched me, I just sort of lost my temper and flung the coffee in his face. I know it was one of the worst things I could have done considering my career…”

She stopped abruptly at Sandor’s sharp laughter. At first, she looked baffled, but then a scowl formed on her lovely face and she glared at him. “What’s so funny?” She demanded.

“Could’ve done much worse than throwing _iced_ coffee at someone. Seven hells, it could have been _hot_ coffee,” he barked another laugh as she continued to frown at him. “You’re hardly a villain.” He lifted his cup to his lips to try to hide his smile. No need to torture the poor woman with such a sight.

She relaxed a bit and smiled. “I suppose you’re right. It’s not like it was a sex tape or anything.”

Unfortunately, Sandor was mid-drink, and at the words _sex tape_ , almost spat soda everywhere. In preventing this, the drink got caught in the wrong pipe and he coughed and hacked and Sansa, looking at him worriedly, jumped up and came around to beat on his back.

“Not helping,” he gasped, shooing her away.

“Are you okay? Did you swallow a piece of ice whole or something?” Her hand was on his arm and the look on her face was so genuinely concerned that he wanted to hug her for being so gods-damned sweet. He waved her away again and she sat back down, still watching him with trepidation.

“Fine,” he rasped, rubbing at his throat. Skylor reappeared then, happily sipping at what appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. She must have noticed that Sandor had turned red from his close brush with death because she looked at him curiously.

“You dying?” She asked cheerfully.

“Yes,” he grumbled, glaring at his cup.

“He swallowed a piece of ice, I think,” Sansa offered.

_No, lady, it wasn’t the ice. It was the casual mention of a sex tape that I suddenly pictured you starring in_ , he glared at Sansa, but she didn’t seem to notice him as she was now cleaning up her trash.

“I need to get going,” she explained, smiling sweetly at Skylor. “I have a long day tomorrow of editing videos and filming and…trying to find a way to apologize for my behavior.” She frowned at the last part and Skylor looked away awkwardly, obviously still unaware of the real reason Sansa had tossed coffee on someone.

“Thanks for everything, Sansa…I mean, Ms. Stark…” Skylor gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know your last name until today.”

“Oh, please. Don’t call me Ms. Stark,” Sansa laughed as she stood up. “Ms. Stark is my mother. I had a good time,” Sansa’s eyes flicked up to Sandor and she gave him a nod. “Thank you for dinner, Mr. Clegane.”

_Mr. Clegane,_ he thought bitterly as he waved off her thanks. _She’s too young to be called Ms. Stark but I’m old enough to be called Mr. Clegane. What the fuck am I doing?_

He slid out of the booth after Skylor and dumped their trash. Sansa lingered a bit, apparently so that she could walk out with them. As they made it to their respective cars, Sansa stuck her hand out to Skylor, who shook it.

“If you ever need any more help, just let me know. I’m more than happy to give you advice.”

“Thanks, Sansa. You’ll be at the tournaments next spring?” Skylor asked, as though to reassure herself.

Sansa nodded. “For sure. Can’t wait to see you in action.”

Sandor’s brain was trying to catch up to what they were saying. _She’s not going to be at the practices?_ It was November, and admittedly, the team wouldn’t be having regular practices through most of the winter, most likely just indoor drills and batting practice. It just occurred to him that it would likely be months before he saw Sansa again. But why did that matter?

Before Sandor could open his mouth to say anything to her, she’d slipped into her car. He and Skylor climbed in his Jeep and he watched Sansa back out in his rearview mirror.

“You know, if you like her, you went about it the wrong way,” Skylor said.

Sandor took a deep breath then blew it out in frustration as he glanced at Skylor. “I believe I told you it wasn’t a date.”

“Well, it should’ve been,” Skylor said, examining the dirt beneath her dirty fingernails. He was about to tell her that she obviously didn’t wash her hands very well, when she spoke again. “You don’t have to avoid women because of me, you know.” She looked at him knowingly.

It annoyed the hells out of him that she was so damn smart for her age. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that since she was absolutely right. He settled for, “That was never supposed to be a date, Skylor.” That, at least, was the truth.

“But you like her, right? I mean, you were giving her heart eyes every time you made an effort to stop looking grouchy.”

“She’s half my age, Skylor.”

“She is not,” his daughter argued. “Half your age would be twenty and she’s _at least_ twenty-three. Coach Stark is twenty-two and Sansa’s the older sister…” He interrupted her logic with a growl.

“She’s not interested and neither am I. Can we change the subject?”

Thankfully, Skylor did change the subject. She talked about school and softball and blessedly left makeup out of the topic of conversation. But Sandor couldn’t help his mood darkening when he thought of how long it would be before he’d see Sansa Stark again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm toying with the idea of possibly having a Skylor POV at some point, but I don't know if that would be well-received. Any input?
> 
> I'm really on the fence about it because this is a SanSan story and even though it would be SanSan through her eyes, I'm reluctant to travel that road because normally, OC POVs turn me off when I want to read something specific. Plus, writing from a 12 year olds perspective seems like a nightmare and I don't want to jump the shark with this story, ya know?


	6. She might have a slight, tiny, miniscule attraction to Skylor’s dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa addresses her followers and attends a batting practice.

_“Hello, everyone! So this video isn’t a tutorial or isn’t a fun product testing. Today, I want to address the video that has gone viral featuring myself. I’m sure everyone has seen it by now. If you haven’t seen it, it shows me throwing iced coffee into a man’s face._

_“First, I want to apologize to all of my viewers. The behavior I displayed is inexcusable and I am so sorry that I failed to be an appropriate role model. I want everyone to know that what you saw in that video is not normal behavior for me. I regret the actions that I took and I hope that all of you can forgive me._

_“Second, it is important to note that the gentleman in the video is not a stranger to me at all. In fact, the gentleman in the video is someone that I used to be in a relationship with. Things did not end amicably between us and clearly I handled his presence very poorly. I know that my prior relationship with him does not excuse my behavior, but I wanted everyone to know as much of the truth as is appropriate to tell. I will not reveal his name, but it is someone that I’ve known for most of my life._

_“Finally, I want to thank everyone for all the support I have been given over the last couple of years. You are all so amazing and I truly hope that you will continue watching my videos. It’s true that I made a mistake that was immature and uncalled for, but I hope that by addressing my behavior, it will help me to grow into a better person who will make better decisions in the future. Thank you all again. See you next time.”_

Sansa leaned back and took a deep breath as she watched herself on the monitor, blowing her signature good-bye kiss to her viewers as she signed off. Sansa glanced up at her friend Jeyne, who patted her shoulder reassuringly.

“You did good, babe. You even managed to call him a gentleman. I think you’ll be okay,” she assured her. Jeyne was Sansa’s only paid, permanent employee at the moment, though Sansa was beginning to think she was overworking her friend. Jeyne not only helped produce the videos, working to make sure the lighting and the sound was professional, but also helped manage her other social media accounts. She had given Sansa pointers on what to say in her video and urged her to come across as humble and contrite.

“So I sounded sincere?” Sansa asked nervously.

“You really did because you _were_ sincere. I know you’re going to stress yourself to death about this, but it doesn’t appear as though you’ve lost a significant amount of subscribers.”

“If it had been me, I would’ve told everyone the fucker deserved it,” Arya chimed in from the doorway.

“I’m glad it _wasn’t_ you,” Sansa pushed her chair away from the desk. “It’s bad enough for you that your sister assaulted your boss’s grandson. If you had done it, there’s no way he’d let you have that team.”

“Assault is a strong word, Sansa,” Arya rolled her eyes. “And I don’t think old Tywin is all that fond of Joffrey.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sansa said miserably as she went around turning off the lights she used for filming. “From what I remember, Tywin doesn’t like anyone, but if you do something to embarrass one Lannister, it shames the family.”

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t marry into that though?” Jeyne gave Sansa a knowing look. She and Arya knew better than anyone what Sansa had gone through.

“Of course. I just wish I hadn’t had a very public temper tantrum.” Sansa’s stomach gave a rumble and she decided it was definitely lunch time. She’d been up since early that morning, editing tutorial videos that had not yet been posted. Jeyne had come over and helped her shoot a new tutorial, and then she decided to go ahead and address her behavior from a couple of days ago.

“Oh, please tell me you’re making lunch,” Arya said as she followed Sansa down the hallway. They shared a large, three bedroom house that Sansa had bought the previous year. The master bedroom of her house had been converted into a small studio with Sansa opting to sleep in one of the two smaller bedrooms because she felt she needed the space more for her business. Arya occupied the other small bedroom. 

As Sansa gathered up the ingredients to make a stir fry for lunch, Arya and Jeyne both took seats at the island.

“Where the hells did you wander off to last night?” Arya asked her.

Sansa gave her a disbelieving look. Her sister hadn’t returned home until the early morning hours, waking Sansa up in the process. The fact that she was demanding to know Sansa’s whereabouts was strange.

Arya quirked an eyebrow at her. “What? You left after practice and I didn’t hear from you. Came home to change to go out and celebrate and you weren’t here.”

“Maybe I was out with friends,” Sansa shrugged her shoulder, trying to remain nonchalant.

Arya scoffed, “You’re usually in bed by nine o’clock and you _always_ tell me where you’re at. It’s like Mom and Dad trained you to always let someone know what you’re doing in case you’re kidnapped,” she frowned, suddenly distracted. “Shit, they never did that with me. Negligent buttholes…” She turned to Jeyne, who was giving Sansa her own rather suspicious look. “Well, _was_ she with you?”

“No, she wasn’t,” Jeyne said, propping her chin in her hands on the counter top. “So we have a mystery, it would seem.”

“I might have other friends, you know,” Sansa tried weakly, staring down at the stir fry with her back to them. She could practically feel their stares burning a hole in the back of her head.

“Were you with a guy?” Arya asked flatly.

“No!” Sansa squeaked, a little too guiltily.

“You _were_ with a guy! You haven’t told me anything!” Arya almost shouted.

“Me either!” Jeyne said, sounding wounded.

Sansa sighed heavily and spun around to look at the pair of them and said, “Because there’s nothing to tell.” _And really, there isn’t. So why am I so hesitant?_ Taking a deep breath, she said, “If you must know, I accompanied one of your players on a shopping trip last night.”

Arya sat up straighter on her bar stool, clearly interested. “Which player? Skylor?”

Jeyne was clearly confused. “Who’s Skylor?

“Why would you assume it’s Skylor?” Sansa said, turning back around to stir up her lunch.

Arya’s voice took on a note of sarcasm, “Hmm, I don’t know, San, but probably because you were chatting with her and her dad. You didn’t do that with anyone else. It’s not brain science.”

“You mean rocket science?” Sansa giggled.

“Or brain surgery?” Jeyne cackled.

“Shut up, you know what I mean. For the record, it’s not rocket surgery either,” Arya smarted back. “Anyway, where the hells did you go?”

“Ulta,” Sansa sighed in defeat. “Skylor asked for makeup advice and before I knew what I was doing, I’d volunteered to go with her for support.”

“Are you crazy? This would be the moment that mom would say, _Are you trying to get murdered, Sansa? Because this is how you get murdered_.”

Sansa eyed her sister with appreciation. “That was an eerily good impression.”

Arya shrugged, “I hear it a lot so I almost have it perfected.”

“I know it probably wasn’t the smartest decision I’ve ever made,” Sansa chewed on her lip, knowing it must seem reckless; although, to be fair, Arya was reckless on a regular basis. “I guess I haven’t made the best decisions this week, hmm? Tossing coffee at Joffrey, going shopping and out to eat with strangers…”

“Oh, tossing coffee at Joffrey was a _great_ deci…” Arya trailed off as it finally clicked what Sansa had said. “Wait, you went out to eat with them too?? Gods, Sansa, it’s a good thing I want them on my team otherwise that could’ve been awkward…”

“Ohhh, was it like a date?” Jeyne asked excitedly.

Sansa glared between the two of them as she deposited their lunch onto plates. To Arya, she said, “It’s not about you, you little demon.” To Jeyne, she said, “NO! Not a date.”

“So…was it awkward?” Arya asked, pulling her plate to her and tucking into her food as she stared wide-eyed at Sansa.

Sansa thought about for a minute. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, the kid is really, _really_ likable.”

Arya made a face. “The dad not so much, huh? Hope he isn’t a problem for the team next spring. He seems so stoic, maybe even a bit grouchy. And that scar…”

“Arya!” Sansa gave her the meanest look she could muster, which didn’t seem to have the slightest effect on her sister.

Jeyne frowned. “A scar? What’s the big deal about a scar?”

“It’s a bad scar,” Arya explained. “Looks like he was burned or something. It covers one side of his face. And he’s fucking huge and hairy.”

“He is that,” Sansa said absently, thinking back to the broad shoulders and muscular chest and that behind…

“Sansa…what the…do you _like_ him?” Arya sat her fork down, which Sansa knew wasn’t a good sign. If her sister was abandoning food, that meant she was _way_ too invested in this particular piece of gossip.

Sansa startled and snapped her eyes to her sister’s. “No,” she said. 

“Oh, Sansa,” Jeyne said softly, shaking her head. “You’re such a bad liar.”

Arya just shook her head. “He’s so old though.”

Sansa scoffed. “Well, _that_ is impolite.”

“You cannot be serious right now.”

Sansa turned her attention to her meal, trying to ignore the looks she was getting. She had no desire for Arya and Jeyne to tease her about some softball dad that she’d eventually be spending quite a bit of time around. The fact that she _might_ have a _slight, tiny, miniscule_ attraction to Skylor’s dad shouldn’t even be a topic of discussion. “Leave me alone and let me eat,” Sansa said dismissively, hoping they would drop the subject.

Blessedly, Arya did change the subject, but what she mentioned next was equally undesirable as a conversation topic. Sansa glared up at her and Arya grinned back. “You think your apology helped with the whole coffee fiasco?”

“It was a sincere apology,” Jeyne piped up in her defense. “It’s obvious she feels horrible about it.”

“You shouldn’t feel horrible about it,” Arya told her, finally back to shoveling food in her mouth. “Joffrey is a prick.”

Sansa chewed on her lip, wondering if she should even reveal what she was really feeling. Finally, she said, “Is it terrible that I don’t feel bad that it happened to Joffrey, only that I was the one to do it? If someone else had embarrassed him, I certainly wouldn’t feel pity for him.”

“Then why apologize?” Arya asked.

“Because it was an inappropriate way to act considering my career. I’m angry that he can still affect me to the point that I lash out. And it worries me that he’s your boss’s grandson too,” Sansa peeked up from her plate at Arya. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve already told you that I’m sure Tywin Lannister has wanted to do worse to Joffrey.”

“He just brings out the terrible in me,” Sansa muttered.

“Sansa, you’re far from terrible,” Jeyne reached across the island and patted her hand, ever the supportive friend. “Just give people time to see your apology. They may even be sympathetic. In fact, _someone_ out there likely has the full version of that video. What are the chances they started filming _at the exact moment_ you tossed the coffee in his face?”

“Maybe,” Sansa said, wondering if someone out there may have gotten a video of how aggressive Joffrey had been.

“Cheer up, big sister,” Arya said. “Why don’t you come with me tomorrow night for practice? Lover boy and kid wonder will be there.”

“I thought practice didn’t start until February,” Sansa said, trying to keep the interest out of her voice. Her eyes stayed on her plate in an effort to keep Arya from reading her.

“Full practices won’t start until the end of January, but we have batting practice in the building all through the winter.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, attempting to sound uninterested. “Well, I suppose since I don’t have anything else to do…” She was cut off by Jeyne snickering.

“Sorry,” she said when Sansa’s eyes snapped up to meet her. “It’s just that you’re planning to go to a boring old practice _indoors_ to see someone you supposedly aren’t interested in. I’ll say it for the second time today, you’re a bad liar.”

Sansa dropped her fork on her plate and glared between her best friend and her sister again. Jeyne was giving her a soft smile, but Arya looked downright devious. “Look, I don’t even know if he’s single…”

“You went out to dinner with him and didn’t get any information about his personal life?” Jeyne squinted at her. “Oh, babe, it has been _too_ long since you went on a date.”

“He said Skylor’s mom wasn’t around,” Sansa explained. “But that doesn’t mean there’s not a girlfriend or something.”

“Only one way to find out,” Arya wiggled her eyebrows at her.

Sansa deflated, but muttered, “Fine,” to which Arya answered with a _‘ha!’_ and Jeyne answered with an indiscernible squeal of joy.

_When did other people become so invested in my love life?_

~*~*~

The next night, Sansa was having serious second thoughts. Since it was late November, she dressed warmly, unsure of how warm the building would be. Arya wore softball pants and a dry fit, long sleeve jersey. When she saw Sansa’s cute, fleece-lined leggings and off-the-shoulder sweater, she rolled her eyes.

“What?” She asked casually. “I’m not the one exerting any energy.”

On the way there, the nerves crept in and she opened her mouth several times to ask Arya to take her back home, or ask Arya if she could just drop her off and disappear, or ask Arya if she could just sit in the car and read. But all those options were cowardly, and for some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she was intrigued with Sandor Clegane.

As though she could see right into her head, Arya said, “So what is it about him you like so much? He didn’t seem overly friendly.”

Sansa chewed on her lip nervously, a habit she’d picked up from Arya that she hadn’t been able to shake. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that drew her in. There was a very real chance that her fascination with him was all physical. She liked that he was so tall. Very few men made Sansa feel small and dainty. In fact, even men who were taller than Sansa, around six feet, still made her feel awkward. Joffrey had been six foot tall, but when she wore heels, he’d always griped about her being too tall. Such a problem wouldn’t exist with Sandor.

And it was clear that he was in very good shape. Sansa had often dated the slender, leaned muscled, golden-haired type boys that tended more to the pretty side than the handsome. But Sandor Clegane didn’t fit into the category at all. The broad shoulders, the huge arms, the muscled chest…Sansa thumped her head against the window. “Maybe it’s just physical attraction,” she told Arya.

Arya made a face and shook her head, but thankfully didn’t say anything else. Sansa knew she wanted to comment on his face and how strange it was that Sansa, who had always dated guys who seemed to be her match in beauty, was attracted to someone who had horrific scarring. Sansa wouldn’t have been able to explain it if she tried. The scarring was quite bad and it must have been excruciatingly painful, but for some reason it didn’t lessen his attractiveness in Sansa’s eyes. 

When they arrived at the building, Sansa took a fortifying breath and stepped out of the car. There were a few cars already parked at the facility and Sandor’s truck was one of them. Arya fussed over getting her stuff together as Sansa shifted from foot to foot nervously.

“Are you going to help me or what?” Arya snapped, trying to reach the lid of her trunk to close it while loaded down with a bunch of equipment. Sansa scurried over and slammed it shut, then offered to take one of Arya’s buckets.

Sansa hastily set down the bucket and found her way to a corner once they were inside. She immediately sought out Skylor and Sandor. They were in the batting cage nearest her, Sandor standing just behind Skylor as she hit off a tee.

“Keep your front leg firm,” he said gruffly.

Despite the weather, both father and daughter were wearing shorts. The building was well-heated though, so it had been a smart decision on their part. Sansa crept over, studying the pair of them. Arya stomped passed her, muttering something under her breath that Sansa couldn’t understand. Whatever it was caught Sandor’s attention, and before she could fully prepare herself, silver-grey eyes fell on her. 

She froze in place a few feet from the batting cage and gave a weak smile. _Gods, he looks good_. He was wearing gym shorts that, while long, did nothing to hide the well-defined calf muscles covered in dark hair. His arms were crossed over his chest, which made his chest and arms look that much bigger. The hem on the sleeve of his tee shirt seemed moments from bursting with the effort of fitting around his arm.

_Seven save me_. He looked confused that she was there, but turned his attention back to Skylor without saying a word. Skylor’s back was to her, so she was unaware of Sansa’s presence until she hit her last ball off the tee, dropped her helmet, and jogged off with a bucket to retrieve her balls. As she gathered them, she finally saw Sansa and a huge smile broke out over her face.

“Hey, Sansa!” She called, waving as she dragged the bucket back to the plate.

“Hi, Skylor,” Sansa replied. “You’ve got a good-looking swing.”

“Thanks,” Skylor said. “It needs work though. I have a lazy right leg apparently.” 

Before Sansa could converse with her anymore, Arya was hollering at her players, telling them to move to the last two batting cages and form lines. Skylor grabbed her bat and her helmet and took off, leaving her dad to try to escape the netting of the cage with a bucket of balls and the tee on his own. Sansa rushed over to lift the net for him as he struggled to get out, but of course he was so tall that it got caught around his head.

Frustrated, he tossed down the tee and the bucket and finally freed himself. Sansa giggled unexpectedly while watching him then slapped a hand over her mouth and felt her eyes widen. His eyes slid to her and narrowed slightly, but the quirk at the corner of his mouth told her he was fighting off a smirk. 

“Sorry,” she squeaked. “It’s just you’re so tall, and I was obviously no help, but you were tangled and I know it _shouldn’t_ be funny, so I do apologize for laughing, but…”

“It’s fine, little bird,” he cut her off, shaking his head. “I can handle being laughed at. I’m a big boy.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed, then bit her tongue so hard she whimpered when she realized she said it out loud. A lone, dark eyebrow rose in question and she felt her face heat up. “I mean…wait, little bird?”

He blinked down at her, as though he too had been unaware of the words coming out of his mouth. “Oh, well. The chirping,” he said, shrugging.

“Chirping?”

He grumbled something under his breath then said, “You were chirping. Like a bird.”

“Oh, hmm…okay,” she said uncertainly, trying to decide if it meant anything that he gave her nickname. 

Sansa made her way to the other end of the building where the players were lined up waiting for their turn to hit. Several other parents were all sitting against the wall. Two men were huddled in the nearest cage with Arya, and Sansa figured those must be her assistants. Sandor made his way over and she found herself hoping he’d sit by her. He stopped in front of her as though he would sit, then passed her.

Sansa was a little disappointed, though she wasn’t sure why she was so worried about where he would sit. She watched as he walked to the edge of the cage, seemingly studying Skylor. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. She admired the broad shoulders and the well-defined bottom since his back was turned. Finally, he turned away from the cage and dropped himself between her and a one of the moms who was reading a book. 

Sansa was delighted, but a little puzzled as to why he boxed himself in between her and someone else when he seemed like the kind of guy who liked keeping a distance. When she turned to him to say something – she wasn’t even sure what, just knew she wanted to talk to him – she was met with the unscarred side of his face.

_Oh_. Had he just squeezed his rather large body so that when he sat by her she wouldn’t have to look at his scars? It made Sansa’s heart hurt to think that he was constantly worried about where to position himself to try to make someone else comfortable. She cleared her throat, trying to get his attention so that he would turn to her, but he just glanced her way from the corner of his eye.

_This just won’t do_ , she thought. When she finally figured out how she wanted to approach conversation with him, landing on a topic she was sure would interest him, she took a fortifying breath, “So, how long has Skylor been playing?”

He turned to her a bit more then, head still positioned to mostly hide his scars, and frowned at her; but it wasn’t a frown of annoyance or dislike. He looked confused and a little amazed that she wanted to talk to him. For encouragement, she gave him a bright smile and scooted a bit closer to him, even though they were already sitting inches apart. 

Then, he gave her an entirely unexpected gift: the corner of his mouth quirked up and his eyes softened, and he smiled back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This story is unique in that I have NO IDEA where this is going. Well, ok, I have a vague idea. My other stories are pretty well planned out before I post them and I usually already have SEVERAL chapters written before I ever post the first chapter AND I have an endgame...but I saw the prompt, jumped on it, and now here I am...writing a story that I never planned to write (though I'm thoroughly enjoying it). I feel like I'm flying blind here. That's why updates are slower the last couple of weeks. Also, I have another story (Missing You) that I've been working on and there is A LOT more written on that one that hasn't been posted...so if y'all start seeing more frequent updates for the other story and this one slows down...just a warning because it could very well happen.


	7. What’s sexy about a shoulder, for fuck’s sake

_Seven hells, that smile_. It was brighter than the sun and it might have left him a little breathless. She looked so fucking good. She wore a cream colored sweater that was clearly intended to bear a bit of her shoulders, and his fingers itched to reach over and touch the pale skin that was exposed to him. Shapely legs were encased in hunter green leggings. He became aware that he was smiling back and quickly schooled his features back into a more stoic expression.

“A while,” he answered. “She started playing softball when she was four years old. She’d played tee ball at three, and I thought I’d give her another year of tee ball to get warmed up to the sport, but she put her tiny foot down and told me she was ready to play big girl softball.”

“Wow,” Sansa looked genuinely impressed. “So she probably doesn’t even remember a time that she didn’t play, huh?”

“Doubt it,” Sandor answered, struggling to not look at her. He made a show of looking around the room casually, watching the girls take turns batting. “Funny thing is, she’s a pretty big nerd.”

“Yeah?” He could feel her eyes on him, so he looked back at her and nodded.

“The kid loves school. Loves to read, loves science, loves taking tests,” he shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t know where she came from because I can assure you that she got none of it from me.”

“Her mother then?” Sansa asked, and he watched immediate regret wash over her face. She had probably thought nothing about mentioning Skylor’s mom, had just been trying to make conversation. That blush he was already so fond of began to creep up neck. “Umm, I mean…”

He barked a laugh. “It’s fine. And as far as I remember, Tara wasn’t like that either. She dropped out of school, so she probably never loved it.”

“Oh,” Sansa was looking down at her lap, fidgeting with the end of her sweater. Sandor found his eyes drawn back to her bare shoulder.

 _It’s a fucking shoulder. What’s sexy about a shoulder, for fuck’s sake_.

“She’s not a secret,” he told Sansa, taking pity on her embarrassment. “It’s okay to ask about her since you and Skylor get on so well. You aren’t poking a wound or anything.”

Sansa nodded and opened her mouth to ask another question, then stopped, as if contemplating if she should open up this can of worms. But he could see that she was curious, and for some reason, he was okay with sharing bits of their history with her, so he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging look.

“How long has she…been away?” Sansa finally asked, glancing up at Skylor, who was about to have her first turn at batting.

“Almost nine years,” Sandor answered immediately. He didn’t even have to think about it. He could remember the time and the date that she walked out. Not that it was easy to forget the date. He snorted and shrugged. “February fourteenth will be nine years exactly.”

His eyes slid back to her and he saw her mouth pop open in shock. And while he should have been more concerned with what he’d just told her, since he rarely talked about it, he was too distracted by thoughts of _holy fuck, that mouth_. 

“Valentine’s Day,” she breathed. She was still looking at Skylor as she said, “She left her child and husband on Valentine’s Day.”

Sandor felt a twinge of irritation. “What’s it matter what day it was?” It came out in a growl, though he hadn’t intended to be that harsh. “What matters is she left.”

Sansa turned back to him, looking contrite. “I’m sorry, you’re right. That was…insensitive.”

Sandor blew out an exasperated breath and willed himself to calm down. This girl had probably never been abandoned by anyone in her life. There was no way she could understand what it was like or how what date it happened to be didn’t matter. “I wasn’t her husband,” he said. “Not sure what I was by the time it ended, other than Skylor’s dad.”

He watched as she opened her mouth to say something, likely _I’m sorry_ , but then closed it again. Poor girl was probably worried about what to say to him after he’d growled at her. She didn’t seem to have taken offense to it though; and even if she had, what the fuck should he care?

“Do you ever hear from her?” Sansa asked.

Sandor shrugged. “She’s gotten in touch some over the years, but I wouldn’t let her see Skylor. I told her if she got clean, she could see her. She never got clean. Haven’t heard from her in about a year and a half.”

“Does Skylor ever ask about her?”

Sandor shook his head. “She doesn’t. I know that’s probably not normal. Kids love their mothers, it’s just how it is. But she never talks about her.”

They quieted for a moment as Skylor stepped into the cage and took her place in front of the plate. Since she was left-handed, she was facing them. Even through the helmet, he could see the look of concentration take over Skylor’s face. Her grey eyes hardened and the corners of her mouth dipped a bit as she focused. _Don’t drop your hands. Keep your front leg firm_. Arya pitched the ball and Skylor made contact. The ball whizzed by Arya’s head and the coach blinked a bit stupidly.

“Maybe you should stand behind the screen,” one of her assistants suggested with a smirk. He was tall with dark hair and seemed too young to have a child on the team. Arya rolled her eyes at him, but otherwise ignored the comment.

“Don’t drop your hands,” Sandor grumbled as he watched Skylor. He didn’t know when she’d picked up such a habit, and she certainly didn’t do it every swing, but when she did she either missed the ball completely or popped it up. “A pop fly is a good way to get out,” he commented loud enough for her to hear him. 

She grimaced and readjusted, waggling the bat to get her timing down. The next pitch, she swung so hard, but so early, that it was almost comical. She looked around a minute and snickered.

“Watch out for the change-up,” Arya told her, smirking at her. “Think you can throw one that pretty?”

Skylor nodded, completely confident in her pitching skills. “I’ve made a few people look as dumb as I just looked, so I think I can manage it.”

Sandor was aware that Sansa had checked her phone and was now looking down at the screen with a frown. She scrolled a little bit and groaned. He looked over at her as she read over whatever what troubling her. She was chewing on that delicious looking lip and looking worried. 

“Something wrong?” _Wonder if it’s a boyfriend._ He knew the coffee incident involved an ex-boyfriend, but he hadn’t thought to ask if there was a current boyfriend. _And why should I? Nothing to do with me_. But before he could filter his thoughts, he said, “Boyfriend problems?”

Blue eyes darted up to meet his and she shook her head. “No boyfriend to cause problems,” she told him, then glanced down at her phone again. “Though this does concern the ex-boyfriend.”

 _So she’s single…_ “What’s going on?”

“Well, I posted a video yesterday addressing what happened and I’ve gotten some mixed responses. Most, I think, were sympathetic, but there are a few…” She deflated a bit, and he realized she must be reading comments or something left on her video. She turned the screen to him and he read the first few.

_“Nice try. Always got the feeling you were a spoiled, rich bitch. You can’t hide your true colors forever.”_

_“Everyone makes mistakes! The fact that you acknowledged wrongdoing says a lot about your character. You didn’t make any excuses for your behavior and accepted responsibility. You seem like a genuinely good person.”_

_“So it’s okay to throw coffee at someone as long as he’s your ex who you had a nasty breakup with? Sounds like an excuse to me. Definitely a half-assed apology. But I don’t watch you because you’re nice. I watch you because you know what the hell you’re doing with makeup. So I’m not going anywhere…”_

_“NONE OF YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE THE CAMERA STARTED ROLLING! NONE OF YOU KNOW WHAT WAS SAID! For what it’s worth, I can certainly overlook her behavior since she apologized. Still love you, Sansa!”_

_“I still say there’s more to this story. But good for you for taking responsibility for your part.”_

_“How would she feel if someone threw coffee in_ her _face and it wound up all over the internet? She humiliated the poor guy. I get that she apologized, but the poor guy is going to have to live with this embarrassment forever…”_

Sandor looked up at her. “They aren’t all bad.”

“I know. It’s just that there are some people that seem determined to villainize me for this,” she frowned, a little crease appearing between her brows. “I never thought of myself as the villain, but I suppose that’s all they get to see.”

He wanted to laugh at her again over her worry that she was a bad guy, but she seemed truly stressed, so held it back. He reached over to pat her shoulder reassuringly, forgetting entirely that it was bare. He patted her a bit awkwardly, unaccustomed as he was to providing comfort, and the feel of her smooth, silky skin beneath his rough fingers distracted him. Whose skin was that soft?? He realized after a couple of seconds that he’d stopped patting her, but his hand now rested on her shoulder.

_Fuck._

He glanced down at his hand, seemingly unable to move it for some reason. Goosebumps erupted beneath his hand and climbed her long neck. _Shit, shit, shit, move your hand, idiot_.

He finally took his hand back, but not before he watched pink flood her cheeks. _So god-damned cute_. The blush that colored her cheeks ran down her neck and extended to her collarbone, and likely went even lower. He was taken with the urge to chase the blush with his mouth. He averted his eyes, pretending to watch the next girl take her first swing.

“You’re not a villain, little bird,” he said after a moment when he wasn’t so distracted by the thought of her heated skin beneath his lips.

She nodded. “Joffrey certainly fits the villain role better than I do,” she scoffed. “Can’t believe I wasted so much time on him and now have to live with the consequences the rest of my life.”

“Sounds like more than just a bad breakup.”

“Our fathers are best friends,” she told him. “I crushed on him all through high school. I thought he was so handsome and charming.” She rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose to show what she thought about that now. “He was pretty horrible to me and when I finally got the nerve to leave him, he told everyone who would listen that I was a cold-hearted, stuck-up bitch who just wanted him for his money…as if I don’t have my own money!” She sounded indignant and the little pout on her bottom lip made him smirk.

“I don’t know much about…whatever it is you do, but Skylor thinks you’re pretty successful.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know much about YouTube, do you?”

“I watch pitching videos sometimes,” he paused and turned to face her, letting a smile curl his lips. “And there was that one time I watched your video.”

Her blue eyes grew wide and she burst out laughing, and damn him, but it was a lovely sound. “Hmm, may I ask what kind of beauty tips you were looking for?” Her smile was radiant and her eyes twinkled with mischief.

Sandor tried to think back about what the beauty video had been about, and he couldn’t remember, but he didn’t want to stop the banter with her, so he threw out the first thing he could think of. “Needed advice on moisturizer,” he grunted, trying to keep his face serious. “It’s almost wintertime and my skin gets dry.”

She giggled again and patted his leg, making him suppress a groan. She fanned her face, apparently a little flushed from all the giggling. “For the record, I’m a beauty influencer. And I _am_ quite successful.”

Sandor still wasn’t sure what that was, but he remembered how he had been drawn into the video by her charm and enthusiasm, even though she might as well have been speaking a different language. If her success relied at least partly on the ability to capture the audience’s attention, then he understood why she was successful. “Well, you got Skylor’s attention and that’s something. Been a tomboy her whole life and now you’ve got her wearing makeup.”

“Sorry,” she said, though she was still smiling. “You’ve been a good sport about it though. So what is it that you do?”

“I’m a general contractor,” he told her, acutely aware that it was in direct opposition to the glamour of her own career. She smiled and nodded, but he got the distinct impression that she likely didn’t know what his job entailed either.

“Hey, Sansa!” Sandor and Sansa both looked up at Skylor, who was standing over them, batting helmet in her hand, and pouring sweat.

“Hi, Skylor!” Sansa said brightly. “Have you had a chance to try out your makeup yet?”

Skylor nodded. “I wore it to school yesterday and today. Still wished Dad would’ve let me get some eye shadow,” she directed a mock pout at Sandor. “I love the mascara though! Makes my eyelashes look so much better.”

Sandor frowned, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with Skylor’s eyelashes, but decided it was likely some weird girl thing that he wouldn’t understand anyhow.

“Well, maybe when your dad decides to let you add some more makeup options, we can go shopping again,” Sansa said.

Sandor turned to her, unable to hide his surprise at her offer. Skylor clearly felt the same way because her eyes widened, and she began bouncing a little bit on the balls of her feet. “OMG! Are you serious?”

“Omg?” Sandor asked, frowning. Since when did people say ‘omg’ out loud? 

Sansa grinned up at her, clearly unbothered by her verbal abbreviation. “Of course! That is, if your dad is okay with that…and _when_ he’s okay with adding more products.” She glanced over at him and he felt another smile pulling at his lips. What was it about this girl that made him want to grin at her like some smitten idiot?

“Making friends, San?” The coach was standing near Skylor now, comedically shorter than his kid, who was a decade younger.

Sansa blinked up at her sister and shrugged that bare shoulder. For once, she didn’t blush. Coach Stark gave her a wide-eyed, knowing look that caused Sansa to narrow her eyes. _The fuck is going on?_

“Mr. Clegane, if you don’t mind, I want to meet all the parents at the front of the building. There’s more room up there to gather ‘round and we’re going to go over practice schedules and fundraisers,” the coach turned on her heel and headed toward the other end of the building.

Sandor stood and reached a hand down to help Sansa up off the floor. She took his hand and he couldn’t help but note how much smaller and softer it was than his. He held it for maybe a millisecond longer than necessary after she’d gotten up, then abruptly let go and followed the coach, Skylor already jogging ahead of him.

Sandor listened as Arya went over details of practices and fundraisers and uniforms. His eyes kept drifting to Sansa, who was standing against the wall, her brow furrowed as she checked her phone again. Two men flanked Arya, the same two he had surmised to be the assistant coaches, and Arya finally got around to introducing them. 

She turned to her right, indicating the tall, dark-haired man Sandor had noted earlier and said to the parents gathered, “This is Gendry Waters, he’s going to be the third base coach and help out with the outfielders. Some of the girls know him as their teacher,” here, several of the tween girls giggled and Sandor rolled his eyes. “He’s looking to get some experience before taking over the junior varsity softball team next year at Baelor Academy after their current coach retires.” Next, she turned to her other side, to a sandy-haired man that was attractive enough that the girls whispered and giggled again. “This is Harry Hardyng. He’s going to be working with our infielders and coaching first base. His daughter, Alys, is our short stop.”

“And the baby of the team,” Skylor chimed in, grinning at a pretty blonde haired girl with dark eyes. The girl grinned and shrugged.

“And the baby of the team,” Arya agreed. “This one here just turned eleven a few weeks ago, so most of you have a whole year on her, if not more.”

The meeting was done after that and Sandor had to endure several minutes after Skylor chatting to her friends. His eyes drifted back to Sansa, who probably had to wait on her sister. His brow furrowed when he saw the short stop’s dada approaching her, a wide smile on his face.

He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, truly, but the coach wasn’t taking care to be quiet either. He leaned up against the wall next to Sansa, startling her as she realized someone had invaded her space. She looked up from her phone, confusion on her face.

“Hi…” She said, and it almost seemed like a question.

“Hey, I don’t know if you heard, but I’m Alys’s dad,” he stuck his hand out, still giving her that toothy smile that was starting to irritate Sandor. He even had a fucking dimple. “I’ll be coaching the infielders.”

Sansa nodded, still seeming a little lost, and shook his hand. “Ermm nice to meet you, Alys’s dad.”

“Harrold Hardyng,” he said. “You can call me Harry, of course. So which one is yours?”

Sandor had to hold in a bark of laughter while watching the puzzlement showing on Sansa’s face. Then, it seemed to click. “Oh! I, uh…” She found Arya across the room, talking to the other coach, and pointed at her. She smiled back at the Hardyng guy. “That one is mine actually. She’s my sister. I don’t have a kid on the team. Or a kid at all. I’m, uh, I’m only twenty four.”

“Ah, makes sense,” Harry said. “I thought you looked awful young to have a preteen.”

Sandor thought that Hardyng looked pretty young to have a preteen too, but Harry quickly addressed that.

“I’m actually only twenty-seven,” Harry explained, though Sansa hadn’t asked. He gave her a lopsided smile. “Guess I just got started young.”

“Eww,” someone whispered and Sandor spun around to see that Skylor was now done talking and was eavesdropping right along with him.

He glared down at her and she just shrugged. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, steering her towards the door.

“Wait, Dad! I wanted to tell Sansa good-bye!”

“Looks like she’s busy,” he grumbled as he shooed Skylor out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Sorry, guys!


	8. Gotcha, big guy

Sansa smiled politely as the assistant coach introduced himself, but as he continued to talk, she wondered if his intention was actually to introduce himself to a fellow parent, or if he had an ulterior motive. She’d already told him she didn’t have a kid on the team, but he continued to talk. She looked around and noticed that everyone was leaving, and Arya was standing by the door, hands on her hips, looking at Sansa expectantly.

“Oh, I hate to interrupt,” she told Harry, though she hadn’t been listening, “But Arya is my ride and it looks like she’s ready to go.” She pushed away from the wall and walked quickly to Arya.

“Well, it was nice to meet you!” Harry called out. “Hope to see you at practice next week!”

As she and Arya exited the building, she noticed that most of the cars were still in the parking lot as the parents and players lingered to chat. Sansa’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that Skylor and Sandor hadn’t left yet. Sandor was standing by his open door, apparently grumbling as Skylor very slowly loaded her bat bag into the bed of the truck while talking to the girl whose car was parked nearest theirs.

“Could you be any more obvious?” Her sister asked.

“Hmm?” Sansa said, frowning at Arya’s accusatory tone.

Arya sighed. “Why don’t you just go talk to him?”

“I’ve been talking to him all practice.”

“So talk to him outside of practice.”

“I think I’m going to ask if they want to grab some food. He paid for my meal a couple of days ago, so I can offer to pay him back?”

“Why are you asking me? Just go see if he will eat with you. I’ll take my time loading all this stuff in case he says no,” Arya indicated the buckets of balls that Sansa knew she was supposed to have helped with, but…

She took a deep breath and tried to play it cool as she strolled over to Sandor’s very large truck. Skylor was just closing the tailgate when she came up on her. Skylor looked over her shoulder as she slammed the gate shut and grinned widely. Sansa smiled back and peeked up at Sandor, who was watching them suspiciously.

“I just wanted to see if the two of you would like to grab some food,” Sansa said, trying to keep her nerves in check. “Your dad was so gracious to buy my meal the other day that I thought I’d return the favor.”

Skylor opened her mouth to answer, but Sandor chose that moment to move toward the back of the truck and interject. “The meal was payment for helping Skylor. You can’t pay me back for my…pay back?” He frowned and shook his head, as though it didn’t sound right to his ears.

“Well, can we get something to eat anyway? I’m starved. You’re always hungry. And if Sansa is hungry she may as well eat with us,” Skylor shrugged and schooled her features into indifference as though she didn’t care either way.

Sandor leaned his arms on the edge of the truck bed and Sansa found herself a little distracted by the muscles in his forearms. He looked contemplative as he looked back at her. “What were you thinking?” He asked her.

“Huh?” Sansa said dumbly, startled as the choice of words, although they were said mildly.

His brow lowered as he studied her, his head tilting slightly. “What were you thinking in terms of _food_ ,” he clarified.

“OH! How about pizza?” Sansa hadn’t even thought about _what_ to eat, so consumed was she with just wanting him to agree to eat with her. But most kids liked pizza, so it seemed a good option.

Skylor immediately responded, “Yes! Pizza would be perfect. I think I could eat a whole pie by myself.”

Sandor rolled his eyes and shook his head, as though he knew her better. To Sansa, he said, “I know a place. You following us?”

She was about to open her mouth and say ‘yes’ when she remembered she didn’t have her car. The word died on her lips and she glanced back at Arya, who was indiscreetly watching the exchange while leaned against the back of her car, arms crossed and looking far too smug for Sansa’s taste. 

“Or she could ride with us?” Skylor offered, causing Sansa to swing her head back around, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

Sandor was studying Skylor, who was looking positively angelic, which Sansa doubted fooled her dad in the slightest.

“She rode here with Coach,” Skylor explained, shrugging again as though it was nothing to her. “And Coach looks ready to go.”

Sandor looked in the direction of Arya, who immediately sprang into action, trying to look as though she hadn’t just been watching them. His eyes turned back to Sansa, who just _knew_ she was blushing _again_. _Damn it_.

“You okay with riding with us?” Sandor asked his tone neutral, not betraying whether or not he cared either way.

Sansa nodded. “That’s fine. I hate to impose. I can sit in the back…”

“Psshhh, I’m not doing that to you!” Skylor said. “Your legs are longer than mine.”

“Hey, the truck is big enough that anyone can fit back there comfortably,” Sandor protested.

“Well, guests get shot gun,” Skylor said, as though that was the end of the argument. She trotted to the passenger side and Sansa followed her. Tall as she was, she was thankful that the truck had a running board otherwise she might look ridiculous trying to climb into it.

It was a nice truck that looked like it had all the bells and whistles anyone might need. Sandor climbed in across from her and started up the engine. Sansa buckled in and tried to calm her nerves again. _When did I get so bold?_

“So Sansa, is it against the rules for me to ask what kinds of videos you’re working on?” Skylor poked her head forward between the front seats and Sandor thumped her head.

“Sit back and buckle up, kid,” he grumbled.

Skylor obeyed, but still sat forward as much as she could with the restraint of the seat belt, watching Sansa avidly.

“No secrets,” Sansa told her. “I’ve been working on videos for holiday makeup. I just finished shooting one on what to wear to a Sevenmas party at work. I’m going to do several different looks for that topic and then do the same with New Year’s Eve looks. Lots of glitter eye shadow will be involved in that one.”

“Oooohhh, glitter eyeshadow…”

“No,” Sandor interjected, glaring at her in the rearview mirror. “Don’t do any weird shit with your eyes.”

“Well, I can’t anyway since you wouldn’t let me buy eyeshadow,” Skylor reminded him.

“It can be done tastefully,” Sansa said, hoping she wasn’t aggravating Sandor too much by saying so.

He looked across the car at her and, thankfully, didn’t seem annoyed. “I know,” he told her. “I’m not saying that you…look weird.” He winced and Sansa had to bite her lip to hold in a laugh. _Poor man_. “But you’re a grown woman and Skylor is twelve, so…” he trailed off and shrugged as though he’d made clear his argument.

“Afraid I’m going to look like a hooker?” Skylor asked.

“What? No,” Sandor glared at her again in the rearview mirror. “But you’re a kid.”

“I’m not a little kid, Dad,” Skylor said, though she didn’t sound argumentative or even annoyed. On the contrary, to Sansa, Skylor sounded kind of gleeful. _She’s enjoying herself. She likes to pick on him_. Sansa couldn’t stop the grin from creeping onto her mouth as Sandor continued to stumble over his explanation. 

“I _know_ you’re not a _little_ kid, but you’re still a kid and no, I don’t want you to dress or wear makeup like a hooker,” he stopped and seemed to contemplate his words. “Not that I have anything against hookers. They’re fine. But they’re adults and you aren’t. Not that I know any hookers though, only if I did that I wouldn’t look down on them…”

Sansa covered her laugh with a cough and dared to look back at Skylor, who was wearing a shit-eating grin and had her arms tucked behind her head, clearly content in the chaos she had just caused her dad. She winked at Sansa, and Sansa couldn’t help the laugh the escaped her then. Her hand flew to her mouth and she peeked up at Sandor, who was glaring at the road ahead of him now.

“You’re a rotten kid,” Sandor said after a moment, not bothering to take his eyes off the road.

“Love you too, Dad,” Skylor answered serenely.

The pizza place chosen by Sandor was a popular one, though Sansa hadn’t had the opportunity to eat there. She listened as Skylor told her all about the specialty pizzas and the amazing breadsticks and the attached arcade. Sansa took the seat next to Skylor again, not wanting to crowd Sandor – he was a large fellow and probably needed elbow room. When the waitress came to the table, she took one look at Sandor’s face and flinched – hard. Then she backed up a couple of steps to put more distance between herself and Sandor. He didn’t miss it either. Sansa watched as his relaxed, neutral expression turned dark and he glowered down at the menu as he rumbled out his order of a fourteen inch meat lover’s pizza. He tossed the meu down rather than handing it to the waitress, who had turned a little pale and was struggling not to ogle his scars. 

Skylor ignored the exchange completely and rattled off her order, apparently accustomed to both behaviors, which made Sansa even angrier – could they man not go anywhere without being treated like a pariah? Sansa ordered next, fighting to keep her voice polite, though she couldn’t stop the glare she sent at the waitress, who stared back at Sansa with wide eyes as though she couldn’t imagine what she’d done wrong.

After they ordered, Sansa decided to try to lighten the mood and find out more about the two of them.

“So Skylor, what grade are you in?” She asked as she pinched off a small piece of a breadstick and popped it in her mouth.

“Sixth,” Skylor answered. “I could be in seventh, but Dad started me when I was six instead of five. I have one of those weird birthdays so I can pull it off.”

“When is your birthday?”

“Last day of August. School starts in September so it all worked out. Though I think I should probably be in seventh.”

Sandor’s raised an eyebrow. “Of course you think that.”

“I’m smart,” Skylor explained then paused with a thoughtful look on her face. “More than smart, really. I’ve never _not_ been the smartest in my grade.”

“Humble too,” Sandor said sarcastically.

“Just telling the truth,” Skylor said. And even to Sansa’s ears, it didn’t sound like a brag; she was just a kid telling it like it was.

“What’s your favorite subject?” Sansa asked next.

“Reading and grammar,” Skylor answered immediately, “but I also enjoy P.E. What was your favorite subject in school?” 

“Hmm, in sixth grade? It was probably the same as yours. I loved to read. I always loved fairytales and love stories.” Skylor made a bit of a face at that and Sansa chuckled. “They aren’t for everyone, I know. What stories do you like then?”

“I actually like non-fiction. I love history. Reading about Aegon the Conqueror is my favorite.”

“Hey, you need to go wash up,” Sandor said.

Skylor looked down at her pristine clothes. “I’m not muddy, Dad.”

“You’re sweaty and you need to wash your hands.”

“Fine,” Skylor said, sounding as though she was suffering. She slid out of the booth and headed to the bathroom.

“You know there’s no way I’m letting you pay for this, right?” Sandor said as soon as Skylor was out of earshot.

“What? No, you have to! You paid last time…”

“Yeah, and I already told you that my paying for your meal was thanks for you helping Skylor. I’m not letting you pay for our meal.”

“You’re stubborn,” Sansa said, doing her best to give him a glare worthy of his own. Clearly it didn’t work because he just looked amused.

“And yet, you’ve agreed to eat with us twice in the last three days,” he pointed out.

“Maybe I like stubborn people.” _Wait, what? Did I really just say that?_

Sandor seemed just as shocked as his eyes widened minutely and he was rendered speechless. He averted his eyes and Sansa wondered what wheels were turning in his head. Maybe she’d thrown him for a loop, basically telling him that she liked him right after the waitress had displayed such horrible customer service because of his face. The silence stretched between them and Sansa was beginning to grow uncomfortable, desperately searching for a new topic of conversation, when Skylor returned.

Skylor seemed an expert in dealing with her dad’s sour mood, as though she’d done it a hundred times, as she launched into softball talk. “Can’t wait until we’re able to get on the field.”

“Still a ways off,” he responded, still glaring around the room.

“I think Alys will be good at shortstop. Did you see her at tryouts?”

“No.”

“She’s very quick and has a good arm. She could play third too, but we need that quickness in the middle infield.”

Sandor finally looked over at his daughter. “And what do you think of the assistant coaches?”

Sansa watched as his eyes flicked to her briefly and she had a sneaking suspicion the question wasn’t as innocent as it sounded.

“They’re alright. I think Gendry is more of a baseball guy. Once he’s around a bunch of hormonal preteen girls he may head for the hills,” Skylor laughed.

“What about the other one?” Again, Sansa noted that Sandor’s unreadable eyes slid to her.

Skylor shrugged. “He’s okay. He’s nice. He’s daughter is a heck of a ball player. Did you see her hit, Dad? She’s so little, but she has some power. Her dad…I don’t think he knows the rules all that well…”

“What about you?” Sandor asked, his eyes on Sansa. “What do you think about the assistant coaches?”

 _Oh_ , _so that’s where he’s going with this_. Sansa straightened up in her seat and decided to play ignorant. “I’m not on the team, so my opinion doesn’t matter. Plus, I was sitting with you the whole time,” she reminded him with a slightly smug smile. “So I know nothing of their coaching ability.” _Gotcha, big guy._

His eyes narrowed slightly and he looked away. Sansa felt a bit of triumph that he didn’t have some snarky reply. _Don’t you dare try to put the focus on me. I didn’t ask for his attention._

The servers brought their food and they dug in. Sansa had ordered a small, personal pan veggie pizza and it was delicious. Sandor and Skylor practically devoured their own pizzas and Sansa smiled to think that the daughter’s appetite matched the dad’s very well. Skylor leaned back into her seat when she was done and groaned, putting a hand on her belly.

“I’m dying,” she announced.

“That’s what you get for eating five slices of pizza,” Sandor commented.

“You ate six!”

“I’m a big boy,” Sandor shrugged, grinning a bit at his daughter. “Teenage girls shouldn’t be able to keep up with grown men.”

“Especially grown men the size of big foot,” Skylor quipped.

Sansa laughed at the exchange and glanced down at her own unfinished, smaller pizza. When she looked back up, both Cleganes were eyeing her with humor.

“The little bird even eats like a little bird,” Sandor said.

Skylor’s brow furrowed and her head whipped around to look at her dad. “Little bird?”

He blinked a couple of times, then relaxed his face into nonchalance and motioned to Sansa. “Yeah, she’s a little bird. Chirps like a bird, eats like a bird…”

“That’s a cute nickname,” Skylor said, smiling at Sansa.

Sandor sat up suddenly at that suggestion and shook his head. “Not a nickname,” he insisted.

“What else would it be?” Skylor rolled her eyes. “It’s much better than my nickname,” she told Sansa.

“Ohhh, what’s your nickname?” Sansa asked with interest. She hadn’t been around Sandor that much, but she hadn’t heard him call his kid anything other than her name.

“I’m not allowed to use it in public,” Sandor grumbled.

“Thank goodness. It’s not even a _fitting_ nickname,” Skylor said.

“What is it?” Sansa asked again.

Skylor sighed dramatically and gave Sansa a sad look. “It’s Bitty.”

“Bitty?” Sansa smiled. It sounded like a pretty cute nickname to her.

“Bitty,” Skylor said with obvious distaste, wrinkling her nose.

“Bitty,” Sandor confirmed fondly, the corner of his mouth turning up as he looked at his daughter.

“Why Bitty?” Sansa asked, directing the question at Skylor. But the girl put her face in her hands and shook her head, clearly a little embarrassed.

“Bitty,” Sandor said again, “Because she used to be tiny. Only four pounds, fourteen ounces at birth. Even at six years old, she only weighed thirty five pounds, so…” He shrugged. “Bitty.”

Sansa found her eyes drawn to him again as he looked at his daughter with affection. _Maybe she’s the only one who has ever seen that_. But Sansa found that she wanted to be on the receiving end of it too. When she realized that his eyes had moved back to her and that she was staring, she looked away, feeling the familiar heat of a blush creep up her neck. _I don’t even know him._ She hardly knew anything about him, but she was desperate to learn more. _Isn’t that why I forced my company on them tonight?_

There was no denying it anymore. Sansa definitely had a crush and she was finding it harder and harder to lie to herself about it. She was inexplicably attracted to him – not that it would surprise her if lots of women were attracted to him, but he was just _so different_ from her type. She had never really been drawn to ridiculously tall, heavily muscled, scowling men who were likely closer to her parents’ ages than her own. And yet…

He also wasn’t very friendly. He was undeniably growly. He had snapped at her a little when she’d made a comment about Skylor’s mom leaving on Valentine’s Day, though she felt maybe that she’d been a bit insensitive in that situation. What was it about this guy? 

She let her mind wander as they waited for the check. She remembered how his hand felt when he’d touched her bare shoulder: large, warm, calloused. Something about the roughness of his fingers against the smooth skin of her shoulder had given her goosebumps. It made her want to feel his hands in other places…

“Sansa?” She snapped to attention at Skylor’s voice, turning to look at the odd look the girl was giving her. How many times had Skylor called her name before she heard her?

“Hmm?” She smiled, trying to act like nothing was amiss.

“You ready?” Sandor asked her, giving her a look that matched Skylor’s and more or less confirming that she had completely zoned out.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” She left a tip on the table, though she was still sore at the waitress for her reaction to Sandor. She followed the Cleganes outside, trying to keep her mind from wandering again, but mostly failing. She was surprised to find the truck door already open when she reached for the handle and realized that Sandor was standing on her side of the truck, holding the door open for her.

 _So he does have it in him to be a gentleman_.

She smiled at him graciously to which he just nodded in acknowledgment. Once they were all settled in, Sansa gave him the address to her house, which he punched into his navigation system on his truck. 

“Live in a nice neighborhood,” he commented.

“You’ve been there?” Sansa asked.

“I have some friends who live over on that side of town,” he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “YouTube money is bigger money than I thought.”

Sansa chuckled, “I’ve done alright. So who are your friends? I may have met them.”

“A real estate developer I work with often. Name’s Margaery Tyrell. She married an old buddy of mine, though how he scored her I’ll never know.”

Sansa’s head snapped around to look at Sandor. “I think I know her.”

He gave her an appraising look, then said, “Yeah, I could see that. The two of you seem cut from the same cloth.”

“Well, more like our families…wait, what does _that_ mean?”

“He means both of you look rich,” Skylor chimed in from the backseat. “Aunt Marge is loaded. And she comes from a rich family.”

“Oh,” Sansa said weakly, glancing over at Sandor. Did she look rich? Sansa came from old money as well, but she had fought hard to make a name for herself outside of the Starks and the thought that ‘spoiled rich girl’ seemed to ooze off of her was a bit disappointing.

“You just have that look,” Sandor said, trying to make it sound as though it wasn’t a big deal. “The car you drive, the clothes you wear, the bag you carry…yes, I can tell that’s an expensive purse. Friends with Margaery, remember?” He added when he saw her astonishment at his assessment of her bag.

She glanced down at her Balenciaga tote and wondered if he thought she was a snob. It was true that she had been raised in money, but everything she had now was hers and she had earned it all through her own hard work.

“Do I seem like a snob?” She blurted.

“What? NO!” Skylor said from behind her. “You’re super nice!”

She watched as the corner of Sandor’s mouth twitched – a giveaway that he was fighting a smirk. When had she began noticing his tells? He glanced over at her and shook his head.

“I don’t think you’re a snob, little bird.”

“Oh, well, good.”

“So how do you know Marge?”

“I don’t,” she said, though she’d heard her name often enough. “But I know that her family has participated in some of the same charities that my family has. I think her family had some ties to the Lannisters.”

“Hmm, didn’t know that.”

Sansa swallowed heavily as a familiar discomfort that always came over her when mentioning Joffrey settled into her bones. “I think she may have dated my ex-boyfriend for just a couple of months. She was older than him and I think she realized he was a loser pretty quickly. At least that’s what I heard.”

Sandor pulled into the circular driveway, dotted on either side by pathway lights that led the way to her front door. As per instructions of the homeowner’s association, the front of the house was also well-lit, landscape lights illuminating the granite and limestone exterior. He peered out the windows and gave a nod of approval. “Nice house.”

“Thanks,” Sansa said, then bit her tongue before she could ask if they wanted to come in. She still didn’t know them that well, not really, and she knew Skylor had school tomorrow. “And thanks for the meal _again_ ,” she added, eyeing Sandor. He had sneakily paid for her meal when she’d been too busy lost in her own thoughts. She stood awkwardly with the truck door open, wondering if she should ask for his phone number. But Skylor was in the back and she didn’t know the proper etiquette for flirting with a single dad, especially when his kid was present.

Finally, she said, “I guess I’ll see you around.” Sandor nodded, then opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Skylor springing from the back of the truck and trading places with Sansa. She clearly was not letting an opportunity pass to sit in the front seat. Before Sansa could bid her farewell, Skylor had thrown her arms around her.

“Thanks for coming with us again,” she said. She climbed into the truck and then waved at Sansa before shutting the door. 

Sansa waved again at they pulled out of her driveway, feeling a little sad and even more uncertain about the feelings the Cleganes were stirring in her.


	9. Wait, so this smoking hot girl is chasing after you and you’re mad about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the famous Skylor POV. I hope this works and if it doesn't, please tell me. I would definitely be hesitant to read a story from the POV of an original character, but I was trying to shed a little light on Sandor's history and an outsider's view on SanSan. I'd like to explore some more of her point of view later on, if this works, but it's going to be few and far between compared to the main characters. Please let me know if this comes across okay.
> 
> Also, we get to meet Skylor's beloved Aunt Margaery :)

Skylor decided that her dad was probably the most oblivious person in the world. She kept cutting her eyes at him, knowing he likely couldn’t see her in the darkness of the car, but compelled to send negative energy all the same. She didn’t know much about dating, it was true, but it seemed like in order to make it happen that these two dummies she was dealing with would need to at least get each other’s basic contact information. Had they done that? Of course not.

She opened her mouth several times to tell her dad that he was blind as a bat, but her knowledge of his history stopped her each time. As far as she knew, her dad had never dated anyone. She hadn’t really cared when she was little. Any woman that he may have brought home in those first few years after her mother had left them would have likely been viewed as a threat. She’d been pretty greedy with her dad’s attention. But now, she wondered and worried if she was holding him back. She watched her Aunt Marge and Uncle Bronn fawn over each other and found that she wanted that for her dad.

Skylor wondered if he ever got lonely. She knew he wasn’t a social person and often glowered at her sporting events in order to keep people from approaching him, but she thought that part of it was likely preemptive because of his scars. Skylor had been in kindergarten before she realized that her dad didn’t look ‘normal’ according to other people’s standards. She’d always thought her dad was the biggest, strongest, most handsome man in the world. She remembered when she was small, being grabbed up and tossed into the air by her dad. It had felt like she could fly and she would spread her arms out like wings as though she could do just that. As she came down, she was never worried about falling, always knowing that his arms were waiting to catch her.

It had been one of her first friends in school, Lanette, who had called her attention to the fact that there was something different about Sandor’s face.

 _“Your daddy looks like a monster.”_ The girl had said it after an argument over who would be the line leader. They had been tossing ridiculous insults back and forth when Lanette had placed her hands on her hips and uttered the six words that had awakened Skylor’s realization that something had happened to her daddy.

 _“He does not!”_ She’d screamed back, shoving Lanette with all her might.

It had been the first of many comments. Sandor avoided school functions as much as he could, but Skylor begged him to come to her end of the year party when she was in first grade. He had refused until she’d cried, telling him that it hurt her feelings that he had missed Sevenmas parties, Valentine parties, and birthday parties when all the other parents attended at least one. He had acquiesced and it had been a disaster.

One little boy had leaned over and whispered to her. _“Your dad is ugly.”_ Having learned her lesson about what would happened if she resorted to physical violence from her bout with Lanette, Skylor had ignored him. 

But then, one of her classmates, a little girl named Kelly who had clearly not paid much attention when Sandor entered the room, caught sight of him and started screaming and crying. This, in turn, made Skylor start crying too, but not for the stupid little girl, but for her dad.

After that, she hadn’t begged him to come to any more class functions. Sporting functions were easier and he never missed any of those. He could somewhat isolate himself from other people and thankfully, most adults didn’t quite have the same reaction as Kelly had. 

Skylor had always been pretty happy, but seeing how her dad was treated by people often sparked an anger that shocked her a little. The older she got, the more it bothered her when people mistreated him, though she usually hid it pretty well. She didn’t understand why people couldn’t see how great he was. 

Skylor had been so star-struck by Sansa that she hadn’t paid enough attention to the interactions between Sansa and her dad before they left the field. She couldn’t really remember if they’d even spoken. But when her dad invited Sansa to eat with them, Skylor had known something was up. As Skylor had chatted with Sansa, she was fully aware that her dear old dad was staring; and not in the ‘I’m-going-to-murder-you-if-you-look-at-me-wrong’ sort of way. He looked at her with _interest_ , and maybe a little confusion. 

Even more interesting to Skylor was that Sansa looked _back_. It wasn’t the look of horrified fascination over his scars either. Sansa looked at her dad and _blushed_ , like she thought he was cute. Skylor didn’t know exactly why, but the thought of her favorite beauty influencer and her dad _liking each other_ made her feel giddy. Not that Skylor was into playing matchmaker. Her friends at school were always trying to ‘hook people up’ and it annoyed her to no end. But Skylor found that she was definitely not opposed to her dad asking Sansa on a date. If he would ever get his head out of his butt.

Seemed like a long shot, honestly.

Skylor popped open the glove compartment and retrieved her phone from where she had left it during practice. She needed input on this and she already knew that none of her friends were qualified, so she texted the one person she was comfortable talking to about it.

**Skylor: Hi Aunt Marge!!**

_Margaery: Hi there, Sky! I heard you made that Lion Pride team. Congrats!_

**Skylor: TY! We had our 1 st batting practice 2nite. Gotta knock some rust off. Guess who I met???**

_Margaery: Did you meet Tywin Lannister? Because if so, I’m so sorry, sweetie._

**Skylor: no not yet. Its someone you would nvr guess! U know those makeup videos u showed me? Well at my tryout on Tuesday I met Sansa from sansa’s makeup chair!!!!!**

_Margaery: WOW! She was at your tryout?? Are you certain it was her?_

**Skylor: Of course I’m sure. She even met me and dad at ulta and gave me some tips on makeup. THEN she went to eat w/ us….and 2nite she showed up at batting practice then ate with us again!!**

_Margaery: Sky, are you joking?_

**Skylor: NO! I swear! My coach is her sister. Arya Stark.**

_Margaery: That is wild. So she’s gone out to eat with you twice? How does your dad feel about that? He doesn’t usually like new people lol_

**Skylor: well he likes HER for sure. Except he wont get her number. It’s like his big dumb brain wont work around pretty girls**

_Margaery: Well, don’t get too excited, Sky. I know the thought of your dad dating a YouTube celebrity is exciting, but I can’t imagine that they would have much in common._

**Skylor: Margie, I’m telling you, woman, she likes him too. I swear. Trust me. She kept staring at him (IN A GOOD WAY) and blushing and smiling and laughing. I think they like each other.**

“You’re pecking at that phone relentlessly,” Sandor’s voice startled Skylor and she glanced over at him, turning the screen away from his discreetly as possible. “Who are you texting? Better not be a boy.”

Skylor shook her head, “It’s just Aunt Marge.”

“Telling her how practice went?”

“Yeah, sort of.” Skylor didn’t like to lie, and she technically _had_ told Marge a tiny bit of information about batting practice.

“Sort of?” Sandor glanced across the truck, and though Skylor couldn’t see him that well, she knew he was assessing her.

Skylor shrugged and schooled her features into the picture of innocence. He turned his eyes back to the road and Skylor glanced back down at her phone as it dinged again.

_Margaery: Have you asked him if he likes her?_

**Skylor: Sure but he’s being a bit fat liar.**

_Margaery: Or maybe he doesn’t like her, Sky. Like I said, sweetie, they must come from very different worlds._

**Skylor: He said she didn’t think she was pretty. Hes lying.**

The next day was Friday, and every other Friday for the last couple of years had been spent at Aunt Marge’s house having dinner. Margaery was wealthy, always had been, and so she had a personal chef that she was more than happy to share with Sandor and Skylor. Skylor wondered if some of the smaller houses they were passing might be Sansa’s. It was too dark for her to know which roads they’d taken in the neighborhood the previous night. The whole way over she kept glancing at her dad, looking for a reaction at seeing Sansa’s house again if they passed it,

They arrived at Margaery’s opulent, bayside home a little after seven. Her dad had insisted that he shower and change after work, so by the time he did all that and drove to Marge’s house, Skylor was starving.

They parked at the side door as they always did and entered through the mud room. Skylor could smell chicken and was sure that her mouth was watering. Margie usually made sure that some kind of chicken was prepared since it was her dad’s favorite, but it was always a different recipe with a gourmet twist. Skylor poked her head in the kitchen where the chef was plating the food and Margaery was standing at the island sipping a glass of wine.

“Sky!” Margaery sang in greeting. 

Skylor skipped over and threw her arms around her favorite aunt, even if she wasn’t _really_ her aunt. Normally they didn’t go a full two weeks without seeing one another, but apparently all of the adults had been busy lately.

“Where’s Bronn?” Skylor asked.

“Already in the dining room. He’s complaining about wasting away because your dad made him wait so long to eat,” Margaery’s dark eyes flitted behind Skylor, likely where Sandor was now hovering.

“Would’ve lost his appetite if I had come over without bathing,” Sandor grunted.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Margaery laughed. “You know there isn’t much that will make Bronn turn down food.”

She led the way into the dining room and Skylor took her usual place next to her dad, with Marge sitting across from her and Bronn at her side. 

“So what are we having?” Sandor asked as he sat down.

“Broiled spicy chicken thighs with sweet and spicy honey glaze,” Margaery said.

“Better be glad I haven’t eaten it all,” Bronn said, rubbing at his belly. “My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

Margaery playfully smacked his arm. “You’re so rude. I doubt you’ll die from eating _one_ meal just a bit later than normal.”

Skylor dug into the chicken once it was placed in front of her. It was delicious, though she’d never had anything bad at Margaery’s. She noticed after a while that Margaery’s eyes were flitting between her and Sandor and she wondered if her aunt was thinking about their conversation from last night. She wondered too if she could find a way to work Sansa into the conversation.

“I hear you made Lannister’s travel ball team,” Bronn commented, nodding at Skylor. “That old bastard is still trying to ride the high from his son’s glory days.”

“The facilities are nice,” Sandor commented. “Bet fundraisers didn’t pay for all that. Lannister looks like he put a lot of his own money into it.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to talk Jaime into getting involved somehow,” Margaery said. “He was an incredible pitcher in college from what I hear.”

“Probably wants nothing to do with his old man,” Bronn said.

Apparently Margaery and Bronn knew something of the Lannisters that Skylor was missing. She had heard the name before, knew that they were filthy rich like Margaery’s family, and knew that Tywin was the founder of the Lion Pride organization, but it sounded like Bronn had a negative view of them.

Sandor glanced up at Marge and tilted his head to the side. “I heard something recently. Did you have some kind of relationship with his grandson?”

Skylor tried to remember exactly what Sansa said she knew of Margaery. All she had gathered is that they had dated the same guy. Was that guy a Lannister?

Margaery placed her fork down and took a large gulp of her wine. Her dark eyes flashed in irritation and Skylor was immediately curious as to what could have turned her mood so quickly. Her eyes shifted to Bronn, who looked considerably lighter as he turned in his chair and smirked at his wife.

“Joffrey Baratheon, yes,” Margaery said. “He’s a bit younger than I am, but I did have a _very_ short relationship with him. One that I will apparently never live down,” she shot a heated glare at her husband who just shrugged.

“You have shit taste in men, Marge,” Sandor snorted, stabbing at his last few bites of chicken.

Bronn nodded along in agreement before catching up to Sandor’s meaning, “Hey!”

Skylor covered up her laugh at her uncle’s indignant expression and the corner of her dad’s mouth twitched as he fought a smirk.

“Well, Margie thinks I’m the best thing that ever happened to her,” he stretched his arms out so that his right one draped over the back of her chair and he threw her a charming smile. “Right, baby?”

Margaery kept her eyes on her food, fighting a smirk of her own as she said, “Well, I’ve had worse.”

Bronn’s mouth dropped open as though in shock and Margaery tossed him a teasing glance. Skylor snickered. Bronn had the best facial expressions and never failed to make her laugh.

Margaery’s keen eyes turned to Sandor. “How did you hear about me and Joffrey?”

 _Oh, this should be good_. Skylor turned her attention fully to her dad. He stopped moving completely and slowly raised his eyes to meet Margaery’s. “What?”

She blinked at him innocently and smiled slightly. _That’s a dangerous smile, even I know that_. Skylor’s eyes jumped between Marge and her dad, wondering if her dad was going to lie or if Margaery could weasel the truth out of him.

Sandor shrugged. “Just heard it. Didn’t know if it was true.”

“Hmm, we’ve known each other for several years and you’ve never mentioned it before. Who told you? I’d like to know who is so knowledgeable about my history with Joffrey.”

Though Skylor knew it was somewhat rude, she couldn’t help placing her elbows on the table, her chin falling into her hands as she avidly looked between the two of them. Clearly some kind of showdown was about to happen.

“Don’t remember,” Sandor said, staring straight at her. For someone who hated lying, he was pretty good at it, but Skylor wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

“Is that what Sansa meant?” She chimed in, swinging large innocent eyes up to her dad’s face. “When she said that Marge had dated one of her ex boyfriends?”

Sandor slowly turned his head to his daughter, narrowing his grey eyes and looking mean as ever. She beamed up at him sweetly. _Not scared of you, Pops_. Her eyes slid to Margaery, who was also keenly studying Sandor now, sitting up straighter in her chair as she awaited his answer.

“Yeah, that’s what she meant,” he grumbled.

Margaery’s eyes went wide then. She looked at Skylor, who gave a shrug as if to say ‘I told you so’. “You’ve been speaking with Sansa Stark?”

Sandor absently scratched at his bearded chin, a little nervous tick of his that Skylor had picked up on years ago. “She’s Skylor’s coach’s sister.” He shrugged, clearly thinking that was explanation enough.

“But you’re aware that she’s also a YouTube sensation, yes?” 

“What kind of YouTube sensation?” Bronn asked, eyebrows lifting curiously. Marge ignored him.

Sandor sat back in his seat, crossed his arms over his huge chest and glared at Margaery. “I’m aware of her job, aye. Skylor’s watched her.”

Margaery nodded, sipping at her win once again and looking across the table thoughtfully. “And you’ve had dinner with her. Twice, was it?”

 _Oh, crap_. Margaery had definitely just implicated Skylor by mentioning that little tidbit and her dad immediately knew. He turned his scowl back on her and she in turn scowled at Margaery, who grinned between the two of them. 

“Oops,” she said.

Bronn was suddenly fully invested in the conversation. He sat forward in his seat, leaning across the table. “You went on dates?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Sandor grumbled.

“Not dates,” Skylor admitted reluctantly.

“What’s this lady look like?” Bronn inquired, only to get a hard elbow to the ribs from Margaery. “Oof! Calm down, woman. Just curious.”

“She’s pretty,” Skylor supplied, peering at her dad from the corner of her eye.

Margaery nodded, though shot Bronn a sharp look. “She _is_ pretty, though that doesn’t matter.”

“How pretty?” Bronn chanced to ask, then dove to his left to avoid another elbow from Margaery.

Skylor scrambled to pull her phone out of her pocket. She didn’t have YouTube on her phone, thanks to her dad’s “training wheels” app, as he called it, that prevented her from downloading certain things, but Google usually worked just fine. She typed in ‘Sansa Stark’ and her screen was instantly filled with images of Sansa. She turned her phone around and showed Bronn.

“Damn,” he said, clearly impressed. He held his closed fist across the table to Sandor, waiting for a fist bump. “Good job, man.”

Sandor left him hanging.

“Oh, for Seven’s sake,” Margaery sighed in exasperation. “Bronn, shut up before you dig yourself deeper. Sandor, how about you tell us exactly how this dinner thing worked?”

Skylor could see from her dad’s expression that he was going to do no such thing, so instead, she launched into the story of how Sansa had shown up to the softball tryout to support her sister, had somehow wound up making a trip to Ulta to assist Skylor with some makeup basics, and then the subsequent chicken dinner on Tuesday night.

“And last night they sat beside each other the entire practice,” Skylor said, feeling the heavy weight of her dad’s stare. “Then, when we were getting ready to leave, Sansa ran out and asked us to eat with her.”

“Damn,” Bronn said again, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I had to work my ass off to get this one to even agree to coffee.” He jerked his thumb toward Margaery. “But this lady is seeking you out?”

“This _girl_ was just trying to pay me back for dinner on Tuesday,” Sandor said, emphasizing the word ‘girl’ in such a way that made Skylor frown.

Margaery shook her head as a grin appeared on her face. “I don’t think that’s what she was trying to do. Skylor said you offered to feed her Tuesday as a ‘thank you’ for helping Skylor…so why would she try to thank you for your…thank you?” She lifted her eyebrows in suggestion.

“She’s got a point, Dad,” Skylor muttered, stealing a glance at him.

Bronn looked utterly confused. “Wait, so this smoking hot girl is chasing after you and you’re mad about it?”

“She’s probably half my age,” Sandor growled.

“She’s twenty-four,” Margaery confirmed after seemingly looking her up on Google. She laid her phone down. “Twenty-four isn’t half of forty, darling.”

“Close enough,” Sandor argued.

“Is this really about her age?” Margaery asked, narrowing her eyes at Sandor. “Because if so, it seems an awful silly thing to get hung up on. She’s a grown woman and she seems to like you. Have you just decided you don’t like women anymore?”

Sandor just sat glaring at her. Skylor wished that he would just answer Margaery. She was certainly no expert on dating, didn’t even really like anyone herself, but she was smart enough to know that her dad acted different around Sansa. And if she wasn’t mistaken, Sansa seemed pretty interested, if all the blushing and the smiles and the looks she gave him were worth anything.

The topic dropped after that, seemingly because both Bronn and Margaery knew that Sandor would dig in his heels and refuse to discuss the topic once his glare reached a certain magnitude. Margaery’s chef made them banana split for dessert and Skylor talked about the girls on her team and who she thought was better at each position. Afterward, Sandor and Bronn sat out on the patio, watching the lights of boats blinking in the bay and talking about an upcoming project, and Skylor joined Margaery in the great room to watch television.

“She’s really nice,” Skylor found herself saying suddenly.

Margaery smiled at her knowingly. “I’ve heard she’s a very sweet person. How she ever tolerated Joff for so long, I’ll never know.”

“Have you ever met her?”

“I don’t think so. I was introduced to her mother once at a charity dinner. And as you know, I’ve watched her videos. I started watching them out of curiosity once I heard that a Stark daughter had struck out on her own as YouTube sensation, but I found that I really enjoy her videos.”

“We dropped her off last night. She lives in this neighborhood, only I don’t know where.”

“Is it on the bay?” Margaery asked.

Skylor shook her head. “I didn’t see any water. I think it’s closer to the outside of the neighborhood. It’s a nice house, just not as big as the ones back here on the bay.”

Margaery looked like she might be trying to puzzle out the location of Sansa’s house for a minute, but she shook her head and retrieved her phone. She scooted closer on the couch to Skylor and with a grin, showed her that she’d opened the YouTube app. Sansa’s smiling face greeted her and Skylor giggled.

The video was a recent one, but one Skylor hadn’t seen yet. Sansa was talking about which mineral makeup she liked and stressed the importance of using a primer so that the loose power would glide onto the skin smoothly. Skylor and Margaery watched avidly as she applied the Prime Time Brightening Primer and then began sweeping bareMinerals Matte Foundation on with the appropriate brush. Sansa had just started in on the blush when a shadow fell over them and Skylor turned to see Bronn leaning over the couch.

“Definitely out of your league, man,” Bronn commented as he watched Sansa apply the mineral blush.

“Fuck’s sake,” Sandor grumbled as he stared over Margaery’s shoulder. “You’re the one encouraging this?”

Margaery peeked over her shoulder at him and grinned. “What? The girl knows her stuff! And I hear she lives around here…maybe I should invite her over…”

Sandor cursed some more under his breath and made a motion with his hand that indicated to Skylor it was time to go. _So much for finishing the video_. She hopped off the couch and bent down to give Marge a quick hug, then went around the couch to hug Bronn as well.

“Same time, same place in two weeks?” Bronn asked as Sandor started toward the mud room.

Sandor gave some kind of noncommittal grunt that seemed to satisfy Bronn. Skylor followed her dad out to the truck. She opened the door to jump in and promptly dropped her phone in the floorboard. She bent to pick it up and noticed something she hadn’t before. Brow furrowed, she stuck her hand beneath the seat and pulled out a small, pink leather wallet with the word ‘Balenciaga’ printed on it in black. 

“What’s that?” Sandor’s raspy voce startled her and she looked up at him, eyes wide. His brow was furrowed and he had leaned over to see what she had.

“Umm,” Skylor looked back down at the pink wallet and pulled at the card in the first sleeve. Just as she suspected, out slid a driver’s license with a pretty redhead smiling at the camera. With raised eyebrows, she looked back at her dad. “So…she probably needs this. Think we should return it?” Skylor fought the smirk threatening to take over her lips. “I hear she lives in the neighborhood.”

“Fuck.”


	10. You really are a bad liar, little bird.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor returns Sansa's wallet.

Sandor stared at the license his daughter held up, his jaw dropping a bit in shock. “Fuck!” He said again, with more passion this time.

Skylor just blinked at him, as though he hardly fazed her. She wiggled the card in front of his face. “You still have her address in your GPS, yes?” She looked down at the ID. “I guess if you don’t you can just use _this_ to type it back in.”

“Fuck,” he swore, muttering the expletive this time. Skylor was starting to look impatient with his language.

Sandor muttered some more under his breath as he maneuvered his way out of Margaery’s driveway. He didn’t need the GPS or the license to get to her house; he remembered it just fine. His eyes slid to Skylor, who seemed positively _giddy_ that Sansa had left something behind. He briefly wondered if Skylor had somehow snatched it out of Sansa’s purse and set the whole thing up.

“Wow, you know, I’ve heard that everyone’s photo IDs always look like crap, but Sansa’s is nice,” Skylor commented, studying the license. “She looks very pretty.”

“Fuck’s sake.”

“You seem very grouchy even though you aren’t driving far to return this,” Skylor said, giving him a reproachful look. “This is your good deed for the day. How else would you have accomplished one?”

“I don’t need a good deed a day,” he grumbled.

“Trust me,” Skylor said in a mock serious tone, “you do. I always hear that doing good deeds makes the do-gooder happier and you’re so grouchy you _definitely_ need to be performing all the good deeds you can manage.”

_What did I do to deserve this treatment by my own flesh and blood?_

Despite having approached Sansa’s house from a different entrance the previous day, Sandor found it again without any difficulty. He chalked it up to the fact that he had an excellent sense of direction. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he’d paid such careful attention to her home’s location in the subdivision that he would probably never need a map to aid him again. Not that there would be a _reason_ for him to need any aid when he was here again because he wouldn’t be coming here again.

He pulled up into her well-lit driveway, wondering if she could hear his truck. It was getting late and the possibility that she may be asleep worried him.

“The lights are on,” Skylor observed as though she could read his mind. She hadn’t unbuckled. She handed the license over to him. “I bet she will think you’re her hero.”

“F-…”

“Oh, for Seven’s sake, Dad, stop saying the f-word!” Skylor snapped grouchily, then her eyes widened. She was probably surprised that she’d been legitimately argumentative, since her normal back-talk hovered around sassy rather than belligerent.

He glared at her, though she recovered from her outburst quickly. She said nothing else to him and made a shooing motion with her hands.

Sighing heavily, Sandor threw open the door, slamming it shut again with more force than necessary. His long legs carried him up her sidewalk and to her front door faster than he liked. He didn’t understand why he was dreading this so much. He _was_ doing a good deed by returning her wallet. When he found herself at her front door, he hesitated only a moment before pressing the doorbell. He heard movement and voices on the other side, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

_Damn it, both of them are home_. What would he do if the little coach came to the door? Would he ask for Sansa or just hand Arya the wallet and walk off? He glanced up and noticed a camera above the door. _At least she won’t be caught off guard by my ugly mug when she opens the door. Gives her time to recover_.

The door opened the next second to reveal Sansa Stark and any intelligent thing he might have hoped to say left him. He would remember later that he stood there a bit too long, likely several seconds, just staring at her. She was wearing very tiny, light pink spandex shorts and a black tank top. Her red hair was piled up on her head in one of those messy buns. Her face was completely free of makeup and somehow as stunning as ever.

Despite opening the door to a huge, scarred, grouchy, old asshole, her eyes lit up and she smiled prettily at him. “Hey,” she said, looking genuinely pleased to see him, though not as surprised as he would have imagined.

Sandor snapped out of it and cleared his throat, holding up the small ID wallet. “Think you lost something.”

“Oh, yeah! So that’s where it was. I’m glad you found it,” she said cheerfully, though she didn’t take it from him.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. _She’s lying. She’s not surprised that I have it_. _Which is why she’s not surprised that I’m here._ Sandor was adept at reading people and he could tell instantly that something was off. Her reaction did not equate to the reaction he expected from someone who was truly worried about their missing wallet. She seemed to realize something was off too because that fucking adorable blush was rising in her cheeks again. 

Sansa finally realized that she still hadn’t taken the wallet that he was holding out to her, shook her head as if to clear it, and then snatched it out of his hand.

“Are you going to invite him in or what?” It was only then that Sandor noticed that Arya was standing just behind her sister, obscured behind the much taller woman, but not in such a way that Sandor shouldn’t have been able to see her. But then, his eyes had been occupied elsewhere…

“Oh, umm,” Sansa glanced behind her and gave her sister a death glare. The younger Stark just rolled her eyes and looked up at Sandor.

“You want to come in?” She asked him, then stepped a bit out the door, peering around him at the truck. “Tell Skylor she can come in too. I can’t believe you left your kid in the truck.”

Sandor opened his mouth to tell Arya that a couple of minutes left alone in the truck wouldn’t hurt his kid, but then he realized that Arya probably expected him to come in all along. He sighed heavily, turned to his truck, and beckoned Skylor. Not that she needed to be beckoned apparently because she was sitting in the driver’s seat with his window rolled down and had her head sticking out in what was probably an attempt to eavesdrop.

Skylor scurried up the sidewalk, beaming at both Stark sisters. “You dropped your wallet,” she told Sansa unnecessarily, and Sandor watched as Arya gave her a meaningful sidelong glance. _Something is definitely up_.

Sansa smiled a little too cheerfully again and nodded. “I know! I’ve been looking all over for it. Glad it was in good hands.”

_You are a really bad liar, little bird._

Sansa and Arya moved aside to allow the Cleganes to enter. Sansa led the way into the living room. “So do you guys want anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water, soda?”

“I’m good,” Sandor said, standing in the middle of the room a bit awkwardly.

“Water would be great,” Skylor said. Sansa turned to the kitchen, but Arya waved her off.

“I got it,” she turned back to look at them and Sandor could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes as she looked between the three of them. “Say, Skylor…why don’t I show you Sansa’s studio? We can play with her makeup samples and make a video if you want?” The gleam in Arya’s eyes spoke volumes, but Sandor didn’t know exactly what she was plotting, so he kept quiet. His eyes darted to Sansa, whose face was flushed.

“Oh, I mean, I could show her around, it is _my_ studio…”

Arya waved her off. “Nonsense. You spend _so_ many hours in that studio. You deserve a break. Besides, I know my way around your equipment. I’ll be careful.”

Sandor’s eyes flicked over to his daughter, who seemed as lost as he was about what was going on here, but then her face changed as she met Arya’s eyes.

“Come on,” Arya prompted gently, nudging Skylor’s shoulder with her own. “We’ll play dress up and Sansa can thank your dad for finding that lost wallet.”

Skylor’s eyes widened momentarily, then she nodded, smiling in way that made Sandor wonder if she was now _in_ on whatever was happening. “That sounds awesome. See you later, Dad.” She trotted after Arya further into the house, leaving Sandor feeling like he was the butt of some joke that was over his head.

He looked back to Sansa, who was sitting on the edge of the loveseat, looking a bit uncomfortable. Any hope he’d had that Sansa was trying to get him alone and had enlisted Arya flew out the window. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He looked around the room and spotted a lone chair on the other side. He had just made a move toward the chair when she spoke to him.

“Have a seat,” she said, patting the cushion next to her.

He scratched at the back of his neck nervously, but slowly made his way over to her, sitting as far from her as he could on the two-seat sofa. She curled her legs beneath her and turned her body towards him, brushing a few stray hairs from her face.

“So I meant to…” she started at the same time he said, “Did you really…”

They both snapped their mouths shut and looked at one another. Sandor studied her for a moment. She didn’t seem as uncomfortable now as she was nervous. It was strange because she hadn’t acted nervous when he’d sat so close to her the previous night at practice. He didn’t know if it was because he was now in her house or if there was something else that was causing tension. 

“You didn’t have to invite me in,” he said, which was not what he was originally going to say. Then he thought about it. She _hadn’t_ invited him in. Arya had. So he corrected himself. “I mean, Coach didn’t have to. It’s getting late.”

“It’s nothing,” Sansa said quickly. “I’m glad you guys came in…” It looked as though she meant to say more, but she trailed off and looked away.

Tired of the awkwardness, Sandor cleared his throat and turned his body toward her, as she’d done to him. He fixed her with a stare when she met his eyes again. Not one to ever tolerate bullshit, he said, “You didn’t seem surprised when I showed up with your wallet.”

 _Now_ she seemed surprised though. Those lovely blue eyes of her widened and the color drained from her face. Even her breathing was a little off. She opened her mouth several times, but no sound came out, and if Sandor hadn’t been well and truly perplexed, he would’ve found it comical. He waited patiently for her to find words, to deny it, to question what he meant, to act as though it hadn’t happened…but when she finally did speak, it wasn’t quite what he expected.

She huffed out a frustrated exhale and her shoulders slumped. She turned away from him and mumbled. “That’s because I wasn’t surprised.”

If she’d looked at him then, he guessed she would’ve seen utter confusion marring his features. His brow dipped low and he frowned as he stared at her profile. The color was coming back to her cheeks now, but so was a resolve coming into her eyes. She looked back at him, gave a nod, apparently more to herself than him, and explained, “I left the wallet there on purpose.”

Somewhere inside his brain, Sandor had known that. From the moment he’d shown her the wallet that he was returning, he could tell that there was more to the story than Sansa accidentally dropping her wallet. But he hadn’t thought about the _why_ or what it meant. He shook his head as he stared down at her, trying to puzzle out what the game was. “Why?”

Sansa fell back against the couch cushions and covered her face, shaking her head as she mumbled something he couldn’t understand.

“Sorry, what?” He leaned closer and found himself encircling her wrist with his fingers, trying to pull one of her hands away.

“Ughhhh,” Sansa groaned, letting him pull her left hand away, even as he held the other one over the other side of her face. She peeked up at him with one eye. “I, uh….I was hoping you would bring it back. Or rather, I was hoping that you would at least find it in time to return it next week at batting practice. You actually found it sooner than I expected…”

“Skylor found it,” he said, though that part didn’t really matter.

Sansa nodded, finally lowering her other hand as she looked at him guiltily. “I did it to…ensure that you would talk to me again. Though in hindsight, I wasn’t thinking that if you had wanted to, you could just get Skylor to hand it to me…” She trailed off as she realized that he was staring at her.

Sandor’s brain was reacting much slower than normal and he was certain everything he said made him sound like an idiot; even so, he had to lay it out piece by piece in order to comprehend what she was telling him. “You left the wallet in my truck on purpose?” She nodded. “And you did it so I’d have to talk to you?” She nodded again. 

_I’ve entered the twilight zone_.

“I’m really, really sorry for being so manipulative,” Sansa said suddenly, chewing at her bottom lip and wringing her hands. “It’s not like me, I swear. It’s not something I would ever do, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Well, I’ve never had to work this hard to get someone to…um…make a move?” She ducked her head down and covered her face once again.

True to its new, slow nature, Sandor’s brain told him to once again repeat what she said. “Make a move?” He asked hoarsely.

Sansa nodded into her hands.

“What kind of move?” Sandor asked stupidly.

At that, she looked back up at him with wide eyes. _Idiot._ He shook his head, trying to snap out of stupid mode, then said, “I mean, you wanted _me_ to make a move? On you??”

Sansa tilted her head, quite like a little bird, and for a moment, Sandor was side-tracked by the thought that he’d given her quite a good nickname. Then he remembered that she was looking at him like that because every word coming out his mouth made him sound like an imbecile. Finally, she said, “Well, yes. I…you know, I had dinner with you twice in three days. I thought it was kind of obvious…” Sansa shrugged, then a look of worry came over her face. “Oh, gods, you aren’t interested at all, are you? I mean, I know I shouldn’t have _assumed_ you were, but it just seemed like there was some chemistry there, but now I feel like such an idiot…”

“Hush,” he snapped gruffly, a little meaner than he’d intended. But he just needed her to be quiet for a moment so he could catch up. “You were trying to, what, get me to ask you out?”

“Umm,” Sansa looked thoughtful. “Yes, I guess so. Well, maybe not even that. I guess I was just trying to see if you were interested in maybe getting to know me better…” Her face fell and she toyed with a fallen lock of hair. “I guess I should’ve taken the hint,” she said ruefully.

“Wait,” Sandor said, suddenly a little panicked that this ridiculously beautiful woman sitting beside him thought he wasn’t interested in her. “That’s not…you’re wrong.”

“I am?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, still trying to work out how all this had happened. He had no idea what to say to her. She was beautiful and kind and, despite her upbringing, seemed pretty humble too. But he had not once considered actually initiating anything with her – not a date, not even an exchange of numbers. He would have been content with friendly conversations at practice and admiring her beauty. _This_ was unexpected.

Sandor must have sat there for an uncomfortable length of time because eventually he felt her hand on his shoulder and flinched. Sansa pulled her hand away immediately and he cursed himself for being so unfamiliar with being touched. When he looked back up at her, she looked so uncertain of herself, so _young_ , and that fact alone made him wonder if he shouldn’t be putting more distance between them. His old instincts told him to protect himself and push her away, that someone that _looked like_ that could only cause trouble.

But Sandor remembered just then that he kind of liked trouble.

“I’m open to getting to know you more,” he said gruffly. It was a lame way to voice what he was really feeling, but infinitely more polite because while his statement may have been lacking, at least he hadn’t told her _I want to bite your bottom lip and lick your neck_.

And she rewarded him with that smile again, the one that brightened the room and made him want to smile back. 

“So the wallet trick worked?” She lifted an eyebrow, clearly satisfied that her plan had worked.

He heaved out a breath and nodded. “Aye, I suppose it worked, little bird,” his brows dipped as he studied her. “But I will say this. I don’t play games. I may have missed some of your more subtle hints, but you could’ve just come out and told me what you were thinking.”

Her face fell and her eyes dropped to her lap. “I really am sorry about that. I’ve just never had to…hmm…I’ve never asked anyone out and I _did_ kind of ask you out, though it was under the pretense of paying you back,” she shrugged, her eyes trained on the floor. “I suppose I did it because I wanted an excuse to talk to you again without bothering you if you didn’t really like me. It made more sense in my head.” She laughed humorlessly, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Sighing again, he reached over and lifted her chin so that she was forced to look at him. “I like you all right. Just no more tricks, yeah? As cute and as clever as it may have been, I don’t like liars.”

“No more tricks,” she agreed. “You caught onto it awful quickly.”

“I tend to do that. It doesn’t help that you’re a terrible liar.”

“So I keep hearing,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “I really don’t have it in me to be deceitful. So…how about that phone number?”

Sandor gave him her number, which she quickly saved in her phone before sending him a text so that he could save hers. Part of him wanted to ask her out since she had shown definite interest at this point. But like he told her, he didn’t play games. He had no interest in getting attached to her only for her to decide she wanted something else in a couple of months. He had dated plenty before Skylor was born, less so since; but he remembered well how it had been to date in his twenties. Not only had the girls grown bored after a few weeks, but more often than not, he had grown bored too. Unconvinced that Sansa was going to be much different in the long run, he resolved to himself to keep her at arm’s length. 

Arya and Skylor reappeared about the time he got Sansa’s number saved and he groaned when he saw his kid. Her cheeks were tinted an unnatural rosy color. Silvery, sparkly, powdery shit had been swept across her eyelids. Her lips were hot pink. Arya looked rather pleased with herself. Sansa looked mortified.

“Arya, what did you do to her?” Sansa asked, jumping up to go over and inspect Skylor’s makeup.

“I let her experiment on me,” Skylor said, and by the tone of her voice she must have known how silly she looked.

“What?” Arya looked between Sansa and Skylor. “I’ve seen Sansa wear every bit of this.”

“Not all at the same time,” Sansa said. “Plus, her coloring is a lot different than mine.”

“Such a party pooper,” Arya muttered.

“Please tell me that comes off easily,” Sandor asked Sansa.

She nodded. “Yes, it all comes off fine. Skylor, you’re such a good sport,” she patted his daughter on the shoulder and she just shrugged.

“It’s more than I would ever get to wear at home,” she said, giving Sandor the stink eye.

As they made their way out the door, Sansa followed them out, having slipped on a pair of flip flops to keep the bottom of her feet from touching the cold ground.

“You didn’t have to escort me out,” he told her once they’d reached his truck. His eyes swept over her form. She was wearing very little clothing for late November, her legs and arms completely bare. Not knowing what possessed him to do it, he watched himself reach out and lay his hands on her bare arms, rubbing up and down a little. “Aren’t you freezing?”

She shook her head. “I’m originally from the North so wintertime in King’s Landing feels a lot like spring where I’m from.”

But even as she said it, he felt goosebumps raising on her arms. He chuckled at her. “The goosebumps tell a different story.”

Something in her face changed then, and he watched in amazement as he tongue slipped out to wet her bottom lip and the corner of her mouth turned up in a shy smile. “The goosebumps aren’t from the cold.”

He tilted his head, confused at first, and then his brain, which had been slow and stupid all night, finally caught up, and his brows shot up his forehead. “Oh.”

She laughed quietly, looking at him from beneath her lashes. Intrigued as he was, Sandor could hear Skylor moving around in the truck, so he reluctantly took his hands away from her arms. “Good night, Sansa,” he rasped, stepping up into his truck. 

“Good night,” she said quietly, that little smile still playing on her lips as he started the engine. He forced his eyes away from her as he backed out of the driveway, but as he turned around, just before he drove away, he noticed she was still standing in the same place, her hand lifted in a wave.

All the way home, amongst Skylor’s chatter, Sandor couldn’t get the memory of her bare skin beneath his hands out of his mind. And he found that just that little contact already had him questioning if he could keep the distance from her that he’d promised himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I posted on Tumblr, but I'll post here as well just to let everyone know...those weekly updates are kind of out the window. I kept trying to make sure that I cranked out a chapter a week, but I felt like the quality was suffering because of that. So from now on, ESPECIALLY since this story is not near as planned out as my other WIP, I will not follow a regular posting schedule...or rather, I won't promise to follow one. I would rather wait long between posting than post a chapter I'm unhappy with. For some reason, I struggled with this one. Not really sure why. And while I still don't feel that it's what I want it to be, it's much better than it was a week ago. I want to thank everyone who has been reading and commenting! It means the world to me.


	11. You sure know how to pick ‘em, little bird

Sansa decided after obtaining Sandor’s number that she would restrain herself from texting or calling him first. She’d reached out enough. If he was interested in her, and she was pretty sure he was, then eventually he would make a move. He would likely make her wait several days before attempting to contact her, judging from how wary he seemed about initiating anything. She had to remind herself that there was no rush to this, and that Sandor had likely been through his share of fast and furious relationships. He appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties, possibly early forties, so Sansa figured he was in no hurry to get involved with someone at least a decade younger.

So when he texted her bright and early Saturday morning, she was barely able to fight off a giddy laugh and a childish leap out of her bed. _I’m a mature adult_ , she reminded herself as she sat up calmly, fighting a smirk as she looked at the little box on her phone screen letting her know she had a new message. She took a deep breath and swiped to open it.

**Sandor: This is how you kids communicate nowadays, right?**

Sansa snickered and rolled her eyes. _Two can play the age game, ser._

_Sansa: It is! I’m so glad you figured it out. Did you have to get Skylor to help you?_

**Sandor: Ha ha. If Skylor taught me there would be a bunch of weird abbreviations. I wouldn’t even know what I’m saying.**

_Sansa: Ah, the youth of today. Creating their own language to keep their parents in the dark :)_

**Sandor: Aren’t you part of that youth?**

_Sansa: Not quite._

**Sandor: You are really damn young though.**

_Sansa: :(_ _Stop it. I can practically feel you putting distance between us._

**Sandor: Sorry little bird. I’m old though. And you aren’t.**

_Sansa: You’re a killjoy, you know?_

**Sandor: And yet you sneakily left your wallet in my car in the hopes of attention.**

_Sansa: Well, I was hoping for some attention that didn’t involve you griping about our age difference. How old are you anyway?_

**Sandor: Doesn’t asking questions like that go against your polite nature?**

_Sansa: I’m waiting, ser…_

**Sandor: Calling me ser is not helping your case. I’m 40. Probably old enough to be your dad.**

_Sansa: Yeah if my dad had a kid at 16. So are you against being involved with someone more than a decade younger than you?_

**Sandor: Obviously not against it since I’m texting you.**

Sansa’s heart fluttered a little at that. He wasn’t texting her just to be nice. He seemed much chattier through text message, likely because he knew she wasn’t looking at him. It hurt her heart more than a little bit to think that at the age of forty he had to be self-conscious about something he couldn’t control. She wondered how long he’d had the scar, though she knew that wasn’t something that could be asked through a text message. The memory of him sitting on her left, so that his scarred side would be away from her, caused her heart to twist painfully. Maybe someday, she could tell him how little she cared about the scar.

They messaged one another off and on all weekend. The topic of conversation wasn’t really deep, but Sansa learned a few more things about him.

For one, apparently Sunday was shopping day for the Cleganes and he sent her messages griping adorably about how Skylor kept “sneaking shit into the cart”.

**Sandor: I don’t remember getting Sevenmas Peeps. Or a teen magazine. Or lavender-scented shampoo. And yet…**

_Sansa: Oh, come on. You know real men smell like lavender._

**Sandor: :(**

Sansa laughed at the emoji and wondered if it was the first time he’d used one. Sansa was beginning to realize that a large portion of Sandor’s appeal was that he was secretly a softie. If Sansa had met him in a setting that hadn’t included Skylor, she doubted she would have been interested in him so quickly. He could be gruff, though so far all of his text messages seemed pleasant. But she remembered the look on his face when she’d mentioned that Skylor’s mom had left them on Valentine’s Day. It _had_ been ignorant on her part to think that it mattered what day Sandor’s ex had abandoned them; but had she not already warmed up to him a bit, his reaction would have scared her off. 

But Sansa had already seen him with Skylor at that point; and while he cursed and growled and glowered, it all seemed a bit of a show when she considered how he truly reacted towards his daughter. He grumbled about the shopping trip to Ulta, but he’d bought her what she wanted. Nope, he wasn’t fooling Sansa at all. Sandor was wrapped around his kid’s finger and Sansa found it endearing. His exterior was rough, but Sansa had already seen some of the soft spots he tried to keep hidden.

Sansa also _really_ liked that he hadn’t judged her too harshly over the coffee incident with Joffrey. So many people had taken the incident at face value, but Sandor was actually interested in the reasoning behind why she did it and he seemed to accept her explanation. He’d even tried to put her at ease by letting her know that in the grand scheme of things, iced coffee to the face was low on the list of shitty things she could’ve done. 

Throughout the week leading up to the batting practice Thursday, Sansa learned other little facts about him. For one, he was very busy during the week days, to the point that communication virtually stopped during daylight hours. Sansa knew she should’ve expected that considering that most people weren’t like her. She operated on her own schedule, and while she was organized and task-oriented, she still had a lot of wiggle-room with her free time. Sandor did not. 

Sansa learned that during the week, fast food was the norm for the Cleganes. By the time Sandor got off work, he and Skylor were both starving, so more often than not, they would swing through a drive-thru on their way home. 

_Sansa: So where is Skylor until you get off work?_

**Sandor: Her grandmother keeps her most days. Oddly enough, she usually doesn’t feed her supper.**

Sansa frowned as she read the message. She knew that some days, Sandor wasn’t able to get Skylor until nearly seven o’clock. It was odd to think that a grandmother would refuse to feed her grandchild. She was curious, but she didn’t want to pry too much. Finally, she figured he wouldn’t have brought it up if he weren’t open to talking to it.

_Sansa: Why in Westeros would she not feed the child? I bet she’s starving by the time you get her._

**Sandor: I’ve asked her the same question before and the response I get is something along the lines of ‘if you can’t manage to feed your child and if you expect other people to do it, maybe you can’t take care of her’. She’s a piece of work. But she’s Skylor’s family and she does keep her after school.**

_Sansa: That sucks. I’m kind of surprised you put up with it. You don’t seem like the type to tolerate bullshit. And that sounds like bullshit to me._

**Sandor: Don’t have a choice. If I tried to stop Skylor’s visits altogether, the old hag would lose her mind. My goal is to stay out of court.**

That revelation had made Sansa realize that Sandor must be more patient with people than he let on. Though it would be in Sansa’s nature to try to please all parties and avoid as much drama as possible, she had thought Sandor would be more likely to tell a difficult individual just where they could go if they were being unreasonable, and this grandmother character seemed unreasonable. It further proved to Sansa the lengths Sandor would go to for his child. He was trying to ensure that Skylor maintained a relationship with her extended family, even if it was a burden for him. It was one more thing Sansa could add to the list of Sandor’s admirable qualities. 

On Tuesday, Sansa came to the realization that Sandor was almost as obsessively organized as she was, if not more so. They chatted about a project he had started, and he talked about his plans, his schedule, the deadline, and how some of his subcontractors were making him crazy because they didn’t share his appreciation for order. It was probably a silly reason to put a check mark in the ever-growing ‘pros’ column, but Sansa couldn’t help but appreciate those qualities because it was something she valued for herself.

**Sandor: You coming to batting practice Thursday to pretend like you’re supporting Arya?**

_Sansa: Pretend? I’ll have you know, I ALWAYS support Arya._

**Sandor: Right. Don’t recall you watching much of the last practice.**

_Sansa: Some hot, bearded, muscular guy was distracting me, so…_

**Sandor: I thought we were past empty compliments**

Sansa scowled down at her phone. There was nothing empty about her words. Furthermore, Sandor really couldn’t dispute the bearded or muscular descriptions, and though he could argue that he wasn’t hot, Sansa felt even that was a weak argument because he didn’t have a say in _how she saw him_. She was trying to flirt with him, for Seven’s sake, and he was making it as difficult as he could. Sansa decided to ignore the dark path he was trying to take her down and changed the subject to Skylor.

~*~*~

Arya and Sansa arrived to practice on Thursday earlier than the previous week and found that Sandor and Skylor hadn’t made it there yet. Sansa looked around the building and when Arya noticed what she was doing, she rolled her eyes and said, “We’re forty-five minutes earlier, San. They’ll be here soon enough.”

Sansa opened her mouth to tell Arya that she didn’t know what she was talking about, but then she remembered what a terrible liar she was and opted to just sit down and wait rather than argue with her sister.

There were several older girls practicing in the cages, though it didn’t appear to be an entire team. Sansa watched as a ridiculously tall and fit blonde woman instructed them as she watched them hit. Arya slid down on the ground next to her.

“So does she coach a team or is she a hitting instructor?” Sansa asked, nodding at the serious-looking blonde.

“Both,” Arya answered, smiling a little. “She’s a fucking legend.”

“Arya, watch your mouth!” Sansa hissed. 

Arya gave her a serious look. “Those girls are 18U. I’m sure they’ve heard it before. Anyway, that,” she waved a hand at the coach, “Is Brienne Tarth. She’s the record holder for most homeruns at KLU. She played first base and nothing ever got past her. Third base lets go of a wild one that would be two feet over the average player’s head? Brienne’s got it.”

“She is quite tall,” Sansa murmured.

“Over a foot taller than me,” Arya grumbled.

They watched Brienne instruct the girls, speaking gently and earnestly when she saw something that needed to be corrected. It was interesting to watch, especially as Sansa noted the coaching differences between Brienne and Arya. Brienne was intimidating to look at, so she likely made a conscious effort to keep her voice calm; Arya, who was shorter than most of the girls she was coaching, was loud and harsh a times, likely to dispel any notion that she could be taken advantage of. Sansa was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice that someone had joined them until he spoke.

“Ah, so good to see you again,” a cheerful voice said from above her. Sansa looked up to find the Harry character she had encountered last week. Behind him, his daughter tapped her foot impatiently. He grinned down at Sansa, showing his dimple. “I didn’t catch your name last time.”

“It’s Sansa,” Arya said, a bit shortly. “She’s my sister.”

Harry nodded. “Well, good to see you still supporting Coach Stark here. So did you ever play?”

Sansa wasn’t really interested in talking to Harry. He hadn’t exactly done anything to deserve her indifference, but something about him rubbed her the wrong way. Still, she was polite to a fault, so she gave him a tight smile and shook her head. “I don’t have an athletic bone in my body.”

“Ah, but what a fine body it is,” he chuckled and gave her a wink.

_Did he really just…?_

“Daddy, there’s a cage open,” Alys chimed in, sounding a bit annoyed. “Can we go ahead and get started, please?”

Harry sighed and excused himself, still aiming that cheeky smile at Sansa. Her mouth twisted into a grimace as she watched him walk away and she felt Arya’s eyes on her.

“What?” She asked.

Arya glared at her. “Are you going to distract all the single dads on the team? If so, I’m going to start leaving you at home.”

Before Sansa could reply, her phone chimed and she glanced down.

**Sandor: All attracting the pests I see.**

Sansa’s head shot up and she could see him, standing on the other side of the building in an empty cage as Skylor set up her tee. She wasn’t sure if he could properly see her, but she grinned at him, choosing not to respond. Instead, she pushed herself off the ground, earning a bewildered look from Arya, and then walked to the front of the building.

Despite the heavy exchange of text messages, Sansa felt suddenly shy and felt her cheeks heat as she approached the cage, looking at him a little bashfully. He just smirked at her and shook his head. She watched them for a while, Skylor hitting off the tee repeatedly with Sandor offering advice. The front door chimed repeatedly as the 12U girls began showing up. Sandor glanced up every time, nodding his greeting to the other parents. At the next chime, he looked up and Sansa watched as his face transformed to his usual stony mask to something almost dangerous. His lip curled a bit and his grey eyes darkened. Alarmed, Sansa turned around to see what might have caused such a reaction in him and gasped audibly.

Joffrey was standing near the small office. Sansa was sure she had never been on the receiving end of a look so nasty, even from Joffrey. Sansa’s eyes swung back to Sandor, wondering if he somehow recognized Joffrey from the video or if he was just responding to watching Joffrey look at her like that. Joffrey seemed oblivious to Sandor’s focus on him as all his focus was on Sansa.

“Why is she here?” Joffrey asked the room at large, his voice loud enough to hush the conversations going on.

Sansa fought the urge to shrink in on herself and hunch her shoulders. She purposefully straightened her spine and lifted her chin, returning Joffrey’s maddened glare with a cool look of her own. A tall, much better looking version of Joffrey stood just behind him, looking bewildered at the showdown taking place. Out of nowhere, Arya appeared, striding up to Joffrey swiftly and invading his space.

“She’s here with me. Got a problem with it?” As small as Arya was, Joffrey seemed to shrink for a moment when faced with her.

“I want her out,” Joffrey said, sticking his finger in Arya’s face.

“Joff,” the man behind him laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t make a scene.”

Joffrey spun around, spluttering indignantly at taller man. “A scene? A scene?! I’m not making a scene!” He turned and pointed a finger at Sansa. “ _She_ made a scene when she threw coffee into my face!”

Realization dawned on the older man’s face as his green eyes shifted to Sansa. She expected the man’s expression to change to mirror Joffrey’s, but she was a bit surprised when he looked at her with something like sympathy. Sansa wondered if she should just leave to avoid any further drama, but Joffrey seemed determined to make a spectacle of the situation. He turned to the office door and rapped loudly. 

By this time, Sandor had slid from beneath the netting of the cage to stand by her side, watching as Joffrey banged on the office door.

“Ex-boyfriend?” Sandor muttered, peering at her from the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” Sansa answered.

“What’s he doing here?”

Sansa sighed heavily. “He’s Tywin Lannister’s grandson.”

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, little bird,” he rasped. She cut her eyes at him and noted that he was fighting a smirk.

Whoever was in the office was thoroughly ignoring Joffrey. The blinds in the window moved, but no one opened the door as Joffrey continued his banging. The blonde man gave Joff a dubious look, then strode toward where Sansa was standing. She stiffened as he approached, worried that she was about to get told off. She was surprised when, instead, he offered her an easy smile, sticking out his left hand.

Reluctantly, and a little off-kilter considering she was right-handed, Sansa reached forward to clasp hands with him, offering a small shake as the man squeezed her hand gently.

“You must be Sansa Stark,” he said smoothly, smiling easily as he introduced himself. “I’m Jaime Lannister. I want to apologize for my nephew’s tantrum. I would say that you caught him on a bad day, but…” He gave her a knowing look, deep green eyes twinkling, “I’m sure you know better than that.”

Sansa laughed nervously and Sandor glowered at Jaime Lannister. She pulled her hand back and peeked over Jaime’s shoulder nervously, noticing that the office door finally opened to admit Joffrey. He slammed it behind him and she could hear him ranting on the other side, though she couldn’t discern what he was saying.

“Lovely young man,” Jaime commented dryly, smiling between Sansa and Sandor.

Arya had stomped over and was now glaring up at Jaime, clearly trying to decide if he was another enemy she needed to defend her sister from.

“Who are you?” Arya said rudely, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing Jaime Lannister.

He turned his charming smile to her and repeated his introduction. Sansa watched as the blood fled from Arya’s face and her large eyes widened even more. “My niece is on the 18U team,” Jaime explained, nodding towards the cages in the back of the building. “I just dropped by to check in on her progress.”

Arya, for once, seemed at a loss for words, but Sansa was putting the pieces together rather quickly. “Joffrey’s sister,” Sansa blurted. “Myrcella?” Sansa only vaguely remembered her, having met her a total number of two times. Joffrey had never been keen on brining Sansa around his family, which Sansa appreciated. The few times Sansa had been around Joff’s mother, the older woman had done her best to alienate Sansa.

Jaime Lannister nodded as he caught sight of Myrcella. His brow furrowed a little. “Who’s _that_?”

Arya finally found her tongue as she said, “Which one? There are six girls over there.”

Jaime shook his head, not bothering to turn around and address her. “Not the girls. _Her._ ” Sansa noted that his eyes were on the coach, who was now standing, proudly displaying her impressive height.

“Oh. Coach Tarth,” Arya explained.

Before anything else could be said on the matter, a racket near the office caused the small group to turn their attention to a very angry Joffrey, stomping out of the office. Tywin Lannister stood in the doorway, watching his grandson coolly as he exited the building. When his eyes flicked to Sansa, she felt herself trying to shrink again.

“Ms. Stark?” He called in a rich, deep voice.

“Yes?” Arya and Sansa called back at the same time. They looked at one another in confusion, and then back to Tywin, who looked like he was struggling to stay patient.

“I suppose the both of you will do,” he said, then turned and went back into his office, leaving the door open in a clear invitation for them to follow him.

Sansa exchanged glances with her sister, who looked uncharacteristically nervous. They took a deep breath in sync with one another, then headed to the office. Sansa peeked back over her shoulder at Sandor, wondering if she was about to lose her free opportunity to see him by being kicked out of the building. Worse, she was worried that Arya may be about to lose her job.

Arya walked in ahead of her and took a seat in front of the desk that Tywin Lannister sat behind, looking grim with his hands clasped atop the table. His green eyes followed Sansa as she sat in the second chair, heat rushing into her cheeks under his scrutiny. It felt very much like being called into the principal’s office. They sat there for several long moments, squirming under Tywin’s gaze before he finally spoke.

“Ms. Stark,” he said, turning his head to address Sansa. “As you can imagine, my grandson is distressed by your little incident last week.”

Sansa nodded, prepared to apologize for her behavior to this stranger she didn’t even know. “Sir, I want to let you know that behavior like that is _not_ commonplace for me. It was just a stressful day…”

“And Joffrey grabbed her,” Arya chimed in, always ready to defend her sister, even with the threat of being fired hanging over her head.

“He didn’t _hurt_ me though,” Sansa insisted. “It’s just that he and I didn’t part on the best terms…”

“And he was being a jerk,” Arya said in earnest.

Sansa looked at her sister in horror, who seemed to realize that she’d slipped up. Arya bit into her bottom lip, chewing nervously as she studied the look Tywin Lannister had leveled at her.

“He does have that reputation,” Tywin admitted flatly. One eyebrow lifted as he studied Arya. “You enjoy telling it how it is, it would seem.”

“Umm…” Arya tilted her head, clearly at a loss of how to respond to that, but Tywin moved on quickly.

“As you’re well aware, Joffrey has a tendency to be overdramatic,” Tywin said, a note of disdain detectable in his tone. “So all I ask is that you refrain from embarrassing Joffrey on these premises. It wouldn’t do to appear as though I approve of it.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open and she glanced at Arya, who looked similarly dumbstruck. Her sister stared unblinkingly at her boss, then blurted, “So you aren’t going to fire me?”

Tywin’s emerald eyes slowly traveled from Sansa to Arya, taking in her bewildered expression. “Why would I do that? You aren’t the one who threw coffee in his face. Now, if the other Ms. Stark were coaching for me, I might consider it.” He said as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes moving between the sisters. “As it is, you did nothing wrong and any quarrel your sister has with him is her business, so long as it’s kept out of this building.”

Sansa was truly glad that Arya hadn’t let her temper get the best of her a few minutes ago. She had been certain Arya was moments from inflicting bodily harm on Joffrey. Tywin Lannister likely wouldn’t let that fly, but this…this was a _gift_.

“Joffrey doesn’t spend much time here,” Tywin explained, already sounding bored with the topic of conversation. “He’s only here today because my son decided to make a rare appearance. Go on, then. Go about your business and do your best not to embarrass Joffrey.” He waved his hand dismissively and both girls scrambled out of their seats, fleeing his office as quickly as they could.

Once they were out and Tywin had slammed the office door behind them, they looked at each other and burst out laughing in relief. When Arya quieted, a strange look came over her face. Sansa followed her eyes and found that Joffrey’s uncle was still in the building, now chatting animatedly with Brienne as Myrcella waited patiently. Brienne was looking rather uncomfortable, shooting looks at Jaime Lannister that indicated she didn’t know what to make of him.

“He’s been talking at her ever since the two of you went in that office,” Sandor muttered, coming to stand at Sansa’s side. “I think he might like her.”

Sansa smiled as she studied them. “I’m not sure she likes him though,” she commented, turning to follow Sandor as they headed to the back cages that were now free of the older girls.

“If he’s anything like his nephew, I can see why.”

Sansa groaned, “He really is horrible.” They sat down along the same wall they had the previous week, perhaps sitting closer than strictly necessary. 

Sandor shook his head as he looked at her. “He was like that the whole time you were together?”

“Mostly,” Sansa admitted. “He was charming in the beginning, much like what you saw his uncle display, but he dropped that façade quickly. I was just so stupid,” she muttered, staring at nothing as she tried to remember why she’d endured Joffrey for so long.

“You aren’t the only person who has ever been an idiot about their partner,” Sandor assured her.

She turned to him, studying his profile. He had once again sat down to her left, keeping his scarred side away from her. He was very handsome, she thought, even if he thought his scar diminished it. She wanted to tell him that the scar did nothing to discourage her attraction to him, but she was still a bit too bashful for all that. Again, she puzzled out how much easier it had been to open up through text messages than it was to discuss personal matters in his presence. It aggravated her that she felt that way. So she decided to take a leap.

“Are you speaking from personal experience there?” She smiled when he looked at her, hoping to ease any awkwardness her inquiry might bring about.

Sandor scratched at his beard, looking thoughtful, then shrugged. “Might be. I haven’t always been the wise old man that you know,” he told her, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Sansa snorted softly. “Here we go again with the old man bit!” She nudged at him with her shoulder. “Seriously, you’ve never done anything foolish in the name of love?”

He made a face. “You really loved that guy?”

Sansa let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes staring at a fixed point on the ceiling. “I mean, yeah, I think so. I was young and stupid, so it’s very possible I was more in love with the _idea_ of being in love, but I certainly _thought_ I was in love at the time,” she paused, considering that revelation thoughtfully. “It’s all the same though, isn’t it? Thinking you’re in love and actually being in love…all that really matters is what you feel at the time it’s happening, so…yeah, I guess I loved him.”

“No wonder you have such low dating standards,” Sandor said, earning another shoulder-nudge from Sansa.

“Stop with the self-deprecating comments,” she told him seriously. “What about Skylor’s mom? You said she hasn’t exactly been the ideal parent, but did you love her?” She turned to look at him and he had stilled and stiffened, the question obviously not one he was comfortable with. _Too bad, big boy._

He was quiet for what seemed like minutes, but was probably all of thirty seconds. Sansa was beginning to squirm in discomfort when he finally decided to answer her. “I guess I must have.” That was it. That’s all he said. He quieted again after he said it, and Sansa waited for him to elaborate, but his body relaxed after he said it, indicating to Sansa that he thought the conversation was over with.

But Sansa could never leave well enough alone, not where love was concerned. She was very open about being a romantic and she couldn’t imagine two people raising a child together without having some kind of love between them. “What do you mean you guess?”

She could see the twitch of annoyance on his lips when he turned to her, then quickly had to remove her eyes from his lips because _why was she looking at his mouth??_ He didn’t seem to notice that though. She could see the wheels turning in his head, all while accepting that she was not going to leave this alone.

“If I explain it to you, it’s going to sound dumb as shit,” he grumbled.

Sansa waited patiently, staring at him expectantly to let him know that she didn’t care how dumb it sounded. She wanted her answer. He blew out a breath and scratched at his bearded cheek again – a move that was clearly a nervous tick.

“Guess I thought it would feel different,” he shrugged and looked away from her, training his eyes on one of the girls who was hitting off Arya’s pitching. “I thought it would be…” he paused as he looked for the word, his brow lowering as he thought. “I thought it would feel more definitive.”

“Right,” Sansa said softly, though she wasn’t sure that was quite right. People could be in love without knowing it, right? She imagined that there were plenty of people that were so caught up in feeling something that they didn’t have the wherewithal to closely examine what it was they were feeling. But then, at this point Sandor had had so much time and distance, she figured that his feelings _should_ be more definitive. “I guess it’s difficult, after what’s transpired, to look back on your time and try to figure out what it was you were feeling.”

“Guess so,” he answered distractedly.

Sandor got quiet again after that, and though Sansa felt maybe a little guilty for prodding, she was glad that she had. She _wanted_ him to open up to her, even if she had to crack his hard shell herself. She wanted to know him better. She got the sense that she wasn’t seeing the real Sandor all the time. He was closed off a lot, his face hardly displaying any discernible emotion. But he allowed her glimpses of himself. When he teased her, when he made sure to sit on her left side, when he displayed his disgust at her history with Joffrey, when his eyes softened as he looked at Skylor…he revealed the parts of himself that she was desperate to know: someone with a sense of humor, someone who was painfully insecure about his appearance, someone who couldn’t stomach the idea of a person being treated badly by their significant other, someone who adored their child. Sandor had allowed Sansa enough glimpses of that person after some nine days in one another’s company, and she knew there was even more goodness to uncover.

When he looked at her again, she realized she had been watching him.

“Don’t blush,” he warned, that smirk she was growing so fond of threatening to pull at his lips. “It’s okay to look, little bird. Even if I don’t understand it.” When she didn’t answer, he thankfully changed the subject, lifting her spirits even higher. “So, you coming to eat with us again?”

She smiled up at him. “Really?”

He shrugged, “Almost tradition at this point.”

Sansa decided she could live with traditions that involved more of Sandor.


	12. I understand the rules of mistletoe, but there are children present.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor thinks a lot about why he SHOULDN'T date Sansa, all the while REALLY wanting to date her. We learn a little bit about his dark past and then there's a Sevenmas party.
> 
> Complete with mistletoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has not been proofread as many times as I normally proofread so...if there are really bad typos or grammatical errors, please let me know and I will fix them. I'm going to come back later and look for myself, but I didn't want to delay posting this for another day since it's been so long!

Sandor was certain that he was behaving like a teenage boy with his first crush. He was irritating himself. But he couldn’t stop the smiles from forming on his lips when he saw a message from Sansa. He was unable to stop himself from flirting with her and teasing her. When they saw one another at practice, he began finding excuses to touch her.

He hadn’t made any overt moves on her. There was no hand-holding or kissing, nor did any of their outings actually resembled a true date, but she filled his mind all the same. It’s not that he _didn’t_ want to take her out on a date. He spent entirely too much of his time thinking about what those lips tasted like or what her ass might feel like in his hands. But there were a couple of things holding him back from making a definitive leap.

For one, Sandor had never brought any woman he was interested in around Skylor. He felt that maybe things had transpired in a backwards manner because Skylor had met Sansa first. As Sandor and Sansa grew closer, so too did Skylor and Sansa. He’d watch as Skylor would practically demand Sansa’s attention during their Thursday night outings after practice. Skylor adored Sansa, and from all appearances, Sansa seemed to genuinely return that affection. And part of him felt like their current arrangement was the safest. If Sandor got no closer to Sansa, then there was less potential of anyone getting hurt.

But if he pursued a relationship with Sansa and it didn’t work out, where would that leave his kid? Skylor had been abandoned and Sandor wasn’t sure if she could deal with losing another woman in her life, which was one of the reasons why he hadn’t stopped visitation with her maternal grandmother. Skylor was very well-adjusted considering that she had grown up without a mother, but if someone else came into her life only to disappear, he wasn’t sure how she would handle it. 

Second, while Sandor could plainly see that Sansa truly liked him, he wondered exactly how long it would last. Contrary to what Skylor believed, Sandor could see well enough that Sansa was interested in him; but their lives were so different. Sansa lived a glamorous life, even if it was a subdued version of it. She drove an expensive car and lived in an expensive house in a fancy neighborhood. At some point, she might look at Sandor and wonder why she was pursuing him. It wasn’t that he thought she was insincere; he just feared that at some point, her tastes would change and she would want someone more like herself. She was young after all and her preferences may shift numerous times before she figured out what she really wanted. And though part of Sandor was okay with being one of her experiments, he didn’t think he should be so careless when he had a kid to think about.

So he didn’t make any real moves.

Sandor knew that he was playing with fire by basically stringing her along. She would probably get tired of it at some point and move on. A part of him wanted her to move on before he got too attached, but another part of him acknowledged that her exit from his life even at this early stage would hurt.

Skylor, who was oblivious to how dating actually worked in the adult world, seemed pleased with their progress. It was comical to Sandor since there was actually very little progress. But Skylor would watch her newest videos and look over at him to smirk. “I’m watching your _girlfriend_ ,” she would say in a sing-song voice.

Sandor would roll his eyes every time, but refrain from telling her that she was definitely not his girlfriend. One night as Skylor snored loudly across the hall, Sandor sent a text message to Sansa, recounting the latest event of teasing from his adolescent.

_Sansa: I’m blushing! Lol_

**Sandor: Why are you blushing? We aren’t even in the same room. What do you have to be embarrassed about?**

_Sansa: Well, I’m sure that the notion of me being your girlfriend is pretty ridiculous._

Sandor bristled, trying not to think about the fact that it _was_ ridiculous, just not in the sense that she meant. 

_Sansa: We haven’t even gone on a date yet. *hint, hint* ;)_

Sandor chuckled at her winky face and shook his head as he typed a message.

**Sandor: It’s not for lack of interest. I swear.**

_Sansa: I know._

She didn’t elaborate about how she knew, nor did she push him for a date.

**Sandor: I don’t date much.**

It was an unnecessary statement. He figured she could have pieced together that much on her own. He thought that maybe if he told her about his hang-ups, she would understand better where he was coming from. 

_Sansa: Can I ask why? Or it that too nosy?_

**Sandor: There are a lot of whys. Bad taste left in my mouth from Tara. The few I’ve dated since then haven’t been anyone I’d bring around my kid. At one point I decided to refrain from dating until Skylor was out of the house.**

_Sansa: So it’s Skylor mostly?_

Sandor sighed as he tried to come up with an easy way to explain it to her. It _was_ mostly about Skylor. But it was also his self-preservation. It was also the fact that the current woman he was interested in was _so bloody young_. It was the fact that he was forty and just fucking done with games. He wanted to be alone or fully invested. He didn’t quite know how to tell her that though. So he settled for the easy answer.

**Sandor: Yeah, mostly Skylor.**

_Sansa: How nosy can I get before you get mad at me?_

Sandor narrowed his eyes at the question, wondering where exactly this would go.

**Sandor: I have a quick temper, but normally I get over it fast. Proceed at your own risk.**

_Sansa: Are you averse to dating me because I’ve already met Skylor?_

It was as though the woman could read his mind sometimes. It wasn’t the only reason, of course, but it was a pretty strong one. If he and Sansa could remain on friendly terms without any other attachments, then Skylor and Sansa could as well. But a disastrous break-up on the other hand…

**Sandor: A little**

_Sansa: I understand._

Her response worried him. Because they were texting, he wasn’t sure if she meant that she understood his hesitation, understood that he didn’t want to date her (which wasn’t true at all), or was just saying she understood to appear mature and level-headed. He quickly changed the subject before the conversation could turn too dark.

November turned into December and Sevenmas approached quickly. Sandor had grown up in a home where traditions were something observed by happier families. Sevenmas had never been anything special to him. If anything, it was a holiday he hoped to pass quickly. Without school in session during the holiday, Sandor had been forced to stay home, caught in the chaos of the violent fights and alcohol-fueled rants. 

They were a house full of alcoholics. His father had been a high-functioning alcoholic, able to work and present himself somewhat respectfully. Hardly anyone noticed the tremor in Conor Clegane’s hand that occurred when he’d been too long without a drink. He provided for the family, and then came home to a wife who was decidedly _not_ a high-functioning alcoholic. She was small, but could inflict a lot of damage. 

Sandor’s mother would slap and punch at her much larger husband until he slapped back, and then she would inevitably call the cops and one or both of them would be forced to leave the house – leaving Sandor alone with Gregor.

Because most of this occurred after Gregor had turned eighteen, Child Protective Services never got too involved. There were some threats that if the Cleganes didn’t get their act together that their son may be put into foster care, but it never came to fruition.

Instead, Sandor would be left with his sadistic older brother. Mostly, they would ignore one another. But Sandor had learned early on that alcohol could numb a lot of things he didn’t want to face and when he and Gregor had both imbibed, well…it was amazing that they had never killed one another.

Skylor’s mom, Tara, had similarly terrible memories of Sevenmas, so they had never celebrated it together. But after Skylor was born…

Despite his bitterness, his scorn for any kind of family celebration, and his general pessimism, Sandor found that he _really_ wanted to start over with his daughter. He wanted to provide her with a safe place, a home, two parents, a security that he had never known as a child. The first time he’d held her tiny body – all four pounds basically fitting in the palm of his huge hand – Sandor had promised her that he would love her and protect her and never, ever intentionally hurt her.

He had thought that Tara had the same convictions, but he’d been wrong.

Sevenmas had become all about Skylor for him.

But now, on the cusp of being a teenager, Sevenmas to Skylor was no longer about her dear old dad, but extended to her friends. And her closest friends were her teammates. So when Tywin Lannister announced that he had rented out a startling number of beach houses on the bay for a weekend-long celebration of Sevenmas, Skylor begged him to let her go.

“You’ve never stayed away from home for longer than a night,” Sandor reminded her.

“This is only two nights, Dad,” she told him.

“And this isn’t with Aunt Margaery.”

“No, it’s with Brooke, and Alys, and Kinsey, and…” She named off all of her teammates as Sandor waited patiently for her to finish. “And Coach Stark!” She added at the end. “Plus, that first night we’re having that party at the ballroom at the Blackwater Grande Hotel!”

Sandor didn’t remember anything about a party. He raised his good eyebrow in question.

“Dad, did you not read the flyer at the last practice?” Skylor put her hands on her hips as she looked at him expectantly.

“No.”

Skylor sighed as though recounting the details was a chore. “Friday night after we get settled in, Mr. Lannister has the ballroom booked at that huge hotel on the bay. It’s close to all the beach houses he rented, so we could probably just walk over. Anyway, it’s a party for all of the teams under his organization. Isn’t that cool? We’ll get to meet everybody that plays for Lion Pride!”

Sandor’s eyes narrowed at her as he realized what that meant and she blinked dumbly at him. He waited for her to catch on, but she just cocked her head to the side in confusion.

Through gritted teeth he said, “Bitty, if you’re telling me there will be boys at this party…”

She threw her head back and groaned dramatically. “Daaaaddd!! Of course there will be boys, for Seven’s sake! There are more baseball teams than there are softball teams. That’s how Lion Pride got started!”

“I’m not okay with you partying with boys.”

“Dad, please! There will be a TON of chaperones. AND that part of the Sevenmas celebration is open to parents! So you can be there and make sure that no one looks at me too long!”

Sandor calmed slightly at this revelation. The thought of scaring the piss out of a twelve year old boy just by growling at him did have a certain appeal. Then the last thing she said sparked suspicion. “Wait, are there people that look at you too long?”

Skylor blew out a huge breath, deflating and smacked a hand against her forehead. “Daddy…”

“ _Bitty_.”

“I mean, yeah, people look, Dad. What do you think? I’m twelve and twelve year old boys are hor…”

“DON’T SAY IT!” He leapt off the stool he had been sitting on and only barely restrained himself from plugging his ears. “I know perfectly well how twelve year old boys are. I don’t need any…insight.”

He decided he needed to get away from this conversation. He snatched up his phone, deciding to text Sansa and tell her about this turn of events.

“So…can I go?”

“I’ll think about it,” he grumbled as he typed a message.

**Sandor: Whose idea was the Sevenmas party? If it was your sister’s, I may have to kill her.**

_Sansa: No, it was not Arya’s idea, though she thinks it’s brilliant. Are you against it?_

**Sandor: I’m not against the slumber party. But I don’t like the idea of a bunch of hormonal boys swarming around my Bitty.**

_Sansa: Come on! A mixer is a good idea! They’re all wearing the same name on their jerseys, so don’t you think they should get the opportunity to meet others who are representing the brand?_

**Sandor: No.**

_Sansa: Oh, come on. Let her go. It’s not as though they’re trying to push them together in THAT way. They’re all going to be wearing their ball uniforms, so they can’t wear anything scandalous._

**Sandor: You going?**

_Sansa: I hadn’t planned on it. I’m not staying with them if that’s what you’re asking, but who knows…if I find that right motivation, then yes, I might attend the mixer party ;)_

Sandor found himself grinning mischievously as he typed out the next message, wondering if he was being too forward.

**Sandor: Are you going to wear something scandalous?**

_Sansa: It’s possible that I can be persuaded to wear something slightly scandalous._

Gods, but he loved flirting with her. He had never really done a lot of it in the past, but he found he thoroughly enjoyed it with Sansa. 

**Sandor: Only slightly?**

_Sansa: Well, there WILL be children present._

He smiled to himself again until he realized that Skylor was watching him with suspicious eyes. He schooled his expression back into a scowl and ignored the scrutiny. “You can go to your blasted party,” he mumbled as he left the room.

He was answered by alternate rounds of high-pitched squealing and declarations that he was the best dad ever.

The little butt kisser.

~*~*~

When the designated weekend arrived, Sandor was ready to tape Skylor’s mouth shut. All Friday afternoon, she chattered about what her team would do all weekend and the games they would play and the pranks they would pull on the other teams.

“Better be the other girl teams,” he growled, thinking that teenaged boys make very well interpret pranks as flirting.

Skylor didn’t answer, but she didn’t roll her eyes either (which was her usual response when she thought he was full of shit), so Sandor had to forcefully stop himself from needling her about the specifics of the pranks so he wouldn’t lose his shit and decide she couldn’t go.

Skylor dressed in the designated Lion Pride uniform. Skylor’s team had three uniforms, so they’d taken a vote to choose which one to wear. The chosen uniforms consisted of crimson pants with a white pin stripe down the side of the leg, crimson socks, a crimson belt, and a white three-button jersey with crimson trim and the words ‘Lion Pride’ printed across the front in a cursive script. Because it was December, Skylor had chosen to wear a black, long-sleeved shirt beneath the jersey. 

He found her sitting at his work desk, tablet propped up, as she attempted to style her hair into the braid that was being demonstrated on the video playing in front of her.

Of course it just happened to be one of Sansa’s hair tutorial videos.

Sandor casually made his way over, sneaking a peek at the video as Skylor seemed too distracted to tease him. It was clearly an older video. The picture was not as clear – looking more like it had been shot on a cheap web cam than the professional equipment he was sure Sansa used now. The lighting was not ideal either. She also looked a bit younger (he was astonished that this was possible). But she still smiled beautifully at the camera and spoke in a clear, melodic voice that captivated him despite the lack of production on the video. 

The video showed mainly the back of her head as she deftly constructed the braid, but would occasionally cut back to her smiling face. Past Sansa seemed quite adept at the braiding, whereas poor Skylor was struggling to keep her fine hair from slipping through her fingers. She was grumbling and growling in such a way that reminded Sandor of himself and it made him proud in a weird sort of way. He checked his watch after Skylor’s fourth failed attempt.

“You’re going to be late if you keep doing this,” he told her.

With one more frustrated groan, Skylor finally let go of her hair and turned in the chair to look at her dad. “I think my fingers are all wrong for this.”

“Well, don’t look at me,” he warned her. “I had enough trouble with buggering ponytails.”

The drive to the area on the bay where Tywin Lannister was hosting his Sevenmas party was a little over an hour. The area was uninterrupted by the big city life of King’s Landing. The road leading to the beach houses was a two-lane highway, the bay on one side and a heavily forested Kingswood on the other. But it was anything but isolated.

Beach houses of all shapes and sizes were scattered along the coast. Some were tiny, resembling remote cabins Sandor had seen on trips to the God’s Eye; others were huge, boasting sleeping accommodations for up to the twenty-five people. When he passed the Blackwater Grande Hotel, he knew he was getting close to their destination. Not a quarter of a mile down the road, his GPS indicated that he should turn. He found the house without a problem and pulled in behind the car he recognized as Arya’s.

As Sandor looked around, he noticed that in the area surrounding them, players of seemingly all ages were emerging from vehicles wearing Lion Pride jerseys. It seemed that Tywin Lannister had rented out half of the beach houses on the bay to accommodate his nearly twenty teams that were being gifted a weekend trip on the bay. There were many more baseball teams than there were softball teams, so the boys were much more crowded throughout the seven beach houses that had been assigned to them, whereas the girls were relatively more comfortable in the four that they occupied. It helped that nearly twenty of the softball players had decided not to attend, which gave a bit more space for parents who were acting as chaperones.

As he lifted Skylor’s overnight bag from the backseat, Sandor overheard one of the baseball parents remark that the boys were shoved into their quarters like sardines, so he was thankful that the girls had been afforded more space. Skylor was serious about her little bubble and if she’d had to share a bed with someone, she would’ve been cranky.

He was concerned about leaving her for two days since he’d never done it before, but Skylor didn’t seem nervous at all.

“You’d think you would be happy to get rid of me for a few days,” Skylor remarked as he walked her into the large beach house. “I mean, you could actually go on a date.” She raised her eyebrows knowingly and tossed her bag on the nearest couch.

“You animal,” Arya teased as she came down the stairs. “Go find a bed and put your stuff away.”

Skylor complied, jogging up the stairs and calling to teammates as she went.

Sandor decided to just go kill time by sitting in his truck until it was time for the girls to leave for their party. He wasn’t needed as a chaperone, but he didn’t want to leave Skylor just yet either. Some of the parents were gathered along the boardwalk, admiring the setting sun on the bay, but Sandor wasn’t particularly fond of people, so he retreated to his truck as planned and let his mind wander a bit.

He knew he would see Sansa at the party. He’d be lying to himself if he thought that she wasn’t at least part of the reason he was sticking around a while longer. He supposed his reluctance to ask her on a real date made him some kind of coward, or at least, he imagined that’s what Sansa thought. What could one date hurt though? It was unlikely that she would want more than that once she’d sated her curiosity about him and he wasn’t likely to get too attached to her after spending one kid-free night together.

Besides, he’d never had someone like Sansa so openly interested in him. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and all he’d done so far was waste it.

 _Tonight_ , he resolved. _I’ll see her tonight and ask her on a date. Then whatever happens, happens._

~*~*~

The ballroom of the Blackwater Grande Hotel was decorated for the season, but the tables had been moved closer to the wall to allow for a larger dance floor. Around twenty girls had already ran out to the dance floor, though Skylor seemed more interested in the food at the moment. Predictably, the boys were off to the side, watching in amusement, likely wondering when they could join them.

Sandor had dressed only somewhat nicer than he normally would have. He still wore jeans with a dark wash, but Skylor called them his “dressy jeans” since they had no signs of wear. His shirt was simple navy blue button-up with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. Most of the other dads were wearing khakis and sweaters, but he’d be damned if he was going to bend _that_ much. 

While the players were dressed in uniforms, the coaches were significantly more dressed up, including Arya. Even the mountainous 18U coach, Brienne, had managed to dress for the occasion. He had never pegged her as the type to wear heels, and yet she was standing over a foot taller than Arya, wearing some kind of high-heeled bootie with a short, black sweater dress.

 _Nice legs,_ he grudgingly admitted.

Apparently Sandor wasn’t the only one who surprised by Brienne’s ability to clean up. Near the front of the ballroom, holding up the food line, was Jaime Lannister. He was turned away from the table and his mouth hung open slightly, his head was cocked to the side, and he had a look on his face as though he was trying to calculate a particularly difficult math problem.

 _Dumb cunt_ , Sandor thought. 

Apparently Skylor agreed because she suddenly appeared at his side, shaking her head as she stared between Jaime Lannister and the oblivious coach. “That Lannister guy has no chill,” she muttered. She stuffed half a dinner roll into her mouth and watched as the other girls danced. With a mouthful, she commented, “I think I’m about to have to show these ladies how it’s done.”

Sandor snorted and shot her a disbelieving look. “Oh, aye?”

“Pffft. You know I got mad skills,” she swallowed the rest of the roll then scampered out to the dance floor.

Sandor had to resist the urge to face-palm as he watched Skylor fall to the floor to do ‘the worm’. “Fuck’s sake,” he grumbled.

“I think that qualifies as mad skills,” a musical voice said from behind him.

Sandor turned his head so quickly his neck cracked. Sansa stood in the open doorway of the ballroom, backlit by the light streaming from the hallway. She was wearing a dark grey wrap dress that clung to the curves of her body. Sandor caught himself scanning her from head to toe before he could stop himself, and when he finally looked up to her face, she was smiling – perhaps a bit smugly.

He walked over to her, a brow lifted as he took in her outfit again, this time for show. “That’s not very scandalous, little bird.”

“Hmm, yes, well, I did remind you that there are children present. Besides, this neck line is much lower than what I’d normally wear.”

She had to be doing it on purpose. As soon as she mentioned her neckline, Sandor’s eyes dropped down, taking in the display of her delicate collar bones and the hint of cleavage that the dress teased.

“You aren’t very subtle,” she commented.

He gave her a sheepish look and shrugged. He wasn’t going to apologize for looking at her though and by the obvious amusement visible in her eyes, he knew she liked it. Her eyes broke from his to take in his attire.

“You clean up nice,” she said softly.

“Hmm, I’m not the only one,” he rasped, moving a bit closer to her. It was tactic he was so accustomed to using to intimidate people that when Sansa didn’t back up, he had to tilt his head down to give her a curious look. She was so close.

Bright blue eyes sparkled as she grinned. “Oh? Who else then?”

His lips twitched, but he managed to suppress a smile as he walked around to stand behind her. He stooped down a bit until his head was near her cheek, then pointed out towards the dance floor. “Coach Brienne.”

Her head snapped around to his, her mouth falling open as she giggled. Gods, she was close. Just a couple of inches and he could kiss her. And she’d probably let him. But this wasn’t the time or place for a kiss…was it? Fuck, he needed to move, but she hadn’t moved either.

She gently cleared her throat and Sandor snapped out of his daze, straightening back to his full height. She gave him a curious look, and then her eyes lifted to the top of the doorway, then flitted back to his.

Sandor knew he must have looked confused as his eyes darted to the top of the doorway.

 _Seven hells_.

Small clusters of mistletoe decorated the top of the open doorway. His first thought was _why the hells would anyone put mistletoe on a doorway leading to a party filled with a bunch of hormonal teenagers??_ Then he figured that the mistletoe was probably just standard seasonal décor for the hotel. _Then_ , he realized that his dumbass was standing still under the accursed plant, with Sansa, and neither of them had moved.

Several scenarios flew through Sandor’s mind in what must have been no more than a couple of seconds. Should he back away and pretend he hadn’t seen it? Should he say something about how it was a stupid tradition and hope that she’d forget it? Should he tell her that it was not a good time and get a rain check on the kiss?

He didn’t really like any of those options though, so he went with his gut and selected an entirely different option.

His hands landed on her waist, drawing a gasp from her lips. The last thing he saw was the widening of her eyes as her tongue darted out to wet her body lip. He swooped down and captured her mouth, applying enough pressure to let her know he had been thinking about this, but not so much that he seemed desperate (though he was, a little bit).

The response was immediate and more than what he’d hoped for. Her hands slid to his chest and she tilted her head so that her mouth fit against his with more ease. Taking that as a sign, Sandor deepened the kiss, taking her bottom lip between his and massaging it with his mouth. A tiny, quiet moan slipped from between her lips and he pulled her closer.

Sandor hadn’t kissed anyone in years and he wondered if it had always felt this good and he’d just forgotten. There was nothing too erotic about the kiss itself – it was not much more than the coming together and breaking apart of their lips, certainly no tongue involved – but even so, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d enjoyed it like this. She was so soft, so responsive, and felt _so good_ beneath his hands that he wondered how he was going to let her go.

Thankfully, a throat clearing brought them both back to the present and they sprang apart like a couple of horny teenagers caught making out by their parents.

The Lannister fellow was standing very near them, looking on in amusement. “I understand the rules of mistletoe,” he said. “But there ­ _are_ children present.”

“Sorry,” Sansa squeaked, her lovely face as red as Sandor had ever seen it.

“No worries, Ms. Stark,” Lannister said smoothly. He paused and looked between the two of them again. “You know, there are plenty of chaperones present, why don’t you two…take a walk on the beach?” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively and it looked as Sansa was about to open her mouth and protest.

Sandor grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the doorway. “Sounds like a good idea,” he said, not even looking back at Jaime as he pulled Sansa along after him down the hallway towards the exit. His skin was overheated and he needed fresh air. But as soon as they were outside the hotel, Sandor spun around and pulled her to him again, laying another kiss on her.

This time, her arms went around his neck and he could feel her go to her tiptoes in an effort to reach him. He knew that there were still people walking by, likely wondering why two idiots were standing just outside the hotel entrance making out. But he didn’t pull back or let up until someone – that sounded suspiciously like a young boy – shouted “Get a room!”

Sansa’s broke away with a laugh, blushing again. She reached a hand up to her mouth, brushing fingers over her swollen lips. 

Sandor let go of her and took a step back in case she needed some space. But then she reached out and offered her hand. 

“How about we take that walk on the beach?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 500 kudos!! Guys, thank you so, so, SO much for reading this story! It's nowhere near over and just because my updates are coming slower, rest assured that it will not be abandoned.
> 
> It just so happens that in these crazy times we're living in, I am considered "essential personnel" so I'm working more than normal while all this is going on, so that's partly to blame for the delay.
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone who comments. I'm TERRIBLE at replying to everyone, but I read every one of them and I love them...I just...really suck at correspondence. Thanks for believing in this little story of mine. It's nowhere near over and we're just really getting started.


	13. All hard candy shell on the outside but gooey softness on the inside

Though King’s Landing never truly got what Sansa would call _cold_ , even during the wintertime, the air was breezier and cooler close to the water. When Sansa shivered involuntarily, Sandor stopped in his tracks, frowning down at her.

“Don’t have a jacket to offer you,” he said gruffly, looking a little disappointed that he hadn’t thought of that.

She grabbed his hand and urged him to keep walking. “It’s fine. I’ll adjust.”

She liked the feel of her hand in his. She didn’t have small hands by any means. Her fingers were long and skinny and when she was a child, she’d had the inexplicable, ridiculous idea that they looked like witch’s hands. But her hand disappeared into Sandor’s, his thumb and pinky nearly meeting on the back of her hand. And it was strange to be giddy about the size of someone’s hands.

Then she remembered how his mouth had felt on hers. The memory served to warm the chill that the breeze had caused. Her actions prior to the kiss had been bolder than normal. She’d known that the mistletoe was strung above the doorway, and some strange hope made her stop beneath it, wondering if she could be daring enough to steal a kiss. When he’d finally noticed her, the strange little hope she was harboring grew. 

Though it had just happened, Sansa knew that she would never forget the intensity of his eyes on her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been the target of a look like that, despite all the hormonal guys she’d been around in college and beyond. This was different though. It wasn’t just another lewd perusal of her body by some horny guy he wondered if he could get in her panties. It was a gentle examination, his eyes not lingering too long on any part below her face. And when he’d looked back at her, there had been heat, yes, but also – something like adoration. 

And Sansa had stayed beneath that mistletoe, trying to find the courage to lift onto her toes and peck him on the cheek, or maybe the lips, and then quietly indicate the mistletoe above their heads, citing tradition for her actions.

But then she’d been too caught up in his presence. He stood so close, likely too close for two people who had hardly touched, but Sansa felt that it wasn’t quite close enough. When he’d walked around behind her, his warm breath puffing against her skin as he teased her about Brienne, her breath had caught a little bit. The proximity had definitely affected her and she wondered if it affected him too. She had thought for a moment, as he stood with his head directly over her shoulder, that he might kiss her.

And he was so handsome. There was just not getting around it. In those seconds he hovered near her face, she took it all in. His full, black beard that despite its length, was well-kept and surprisingly soft-looking. His full bottom lip, visible beneath his mustache. His pale grey eyes, that looked almost silver in certain light. His one, thick eyebrow, framing deep-set eyes. And the scars too. She liked it all.

In the end, she was too craven to steal a kiss, but not so craven that she couldn’t tease him about it. She’d cleared her throat and flicked her eyes up at the mistletoe, prepared to laugh it off if her hint scared him again.

It seemed that Sandor was not as craven as she was.

Before she could move, before she could breathe, his hands were on her waist and his mouth was on hers and it didn’t matter at all that they were in a very public setting where anyone could see them. It didn’t matter at all.

It had felt so _good_ , so right, that when they were interrupted, Sansa had to tamp down a flare of irritation at Jaime Lannister. But he redeemed himself quickly by suggesting they take a walk.

The second kiss had been even better than the first, if just as unexpected. But at least she’d had the presence of mind to lift onto her toes the second time, making it easier for him to reach her. Her hands had wound around his neck and she’d fought a strong urge to run her fingers through his hair. 

As they walked along, she wondered what prompted him to make a move. Sansa chewed on her lip as she stared at the water of the bay, stars reflecting on its black surface. “What made you change your mind?” 

She knew that she was probably blushing _again_ , but was glad for the relative darkness. The only light other than the stars came from the exterior lights of the hotel and surrounding beach houses. She felt uncertain, but didn’t want Sandor to see that and think that she was uncertain about _him_. She had caught on to his moods and tendency to think the worst at times, so she didn’t want to give him the impression that any anxiety she felt was because of _him_ , but rather why he might have suddenly acted on something they’d been dancing around for weeks.

He seemed contemplative as he looked at their hands, their feet, and then at the dark bay. He sighed through his nose and turned back to her. “Began to wonder why I was fighting it.”

“Which part of it were you fighting exactly?” Sansa asked gently, though she felt a small smirk pulling at her lips. “Because I gotta tell you, you didn’t seem to hold back on the kiss.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a rueful half-smile. “I was done with holding back when I kissed you. It was more the dating part that I was fighting.”

“Well, there still hasn’t been a date,” Sansa said teasingly. She was answered with a glower that she was sure was supposed to be intimidating. But she wasn’t scared of him.

He cleared his throat and gave her a challenging look. “I’m free tomorrow. No work, no child. What about then?”

“Okay,” Sansa agreed happily, but her glee was doused almost immediately by the confused look on his face. _He didn’t think I’d agree so readily_ , she realized. “Anyway, I still want an answer.”

“To what?” He asked distractedly, clearly still trying to catch up with her quick acceptance.

“Why were you fighting it?” She asked, straining to see his features in the dark. “I’ve never had to work so hard to get a date,” she told him, only half joking. She grew quiet when he didn’t answer her. Worry began to gnaw at her and she deliberated whether or not she had come on to him too strongly.

They approached a lit boardwalk and Sandor led her onto the deck. He propped his arms on the railing and stared down at the water. “I was just an idiot,” he said finally. “Only an idiot makes a girl like you wait around.”

“ _Woman_ ,” she jokingly admonished. She knew, _just knew_ , that that wasn’t all there was to this. But it wasn’t the time to prod him again and again for details. She still barely knew him and her main focus at the moment was to get to know him better. She took on an identical stance to his, propping her arms against the rail. She bumped shoulders with him. “Where are you taking me tomorrow? Or am I taking you somewhere?”

He snorted and she looked up at him expectantly, noting that he had again placed himself on her left so that his scarred side would be away from her. “No, little bird. When I date, I do it the old fashioned way. Pick you at your house, hold open doors, and you choose where we go.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Sansa pouted, thinking she hadn’t been on a date in so long she didn’t even know what she _liked_.

“Rules are rules,” he told her dismissively. “That’s what happens when you go out with an old man.”

_How do I tell him to stop the ‘old man’ crap without getting into a fight_ , she thought, her mood darkening a little. “I’ll think about it,” she said aloud. “Is it strange that I don’t have any idea where I want to go?” 

“Where do you usually go?”

It was a simple question, but his tone was challenging again, and Sansa knew that he was making an assumption – albeit in a roundabout way – that she went on a lot of dates. She wasn’t stupid and she knew the question was not as innocent as the content suggested.

“I don’t,” she told him simply with a shrug. “I don’t date. Like, ever.”

She had his attention now.

He stood up straight and turned to her. She didn’t move though, just kept on staring down at the water, feeling his gaze on her face. She imagined the incredulity that must have been washing over his features.

“Is that something you tell people to make you seem more humble or something?”

Sansa was known to be unfailingly polite and kind in the face of other’s lack of manners, and she often diffused situations rather than stoke the fire, but something, _something_ in his tone once again picked at her and she spun to face him, working to keep her voice calm. “No. It’s not something I _tell_ people. It’s something I’m telling you because it’s the truth. I don’t date.” There was a biting tone to her voice that even she could hear as they stood staring at one another as best they could in the dark. _How are we already fighting?_

But even in the dark, she could see that his features had softened and he just looked…puzzled. Again.

“Why don’t you date?”

“No one ever asks me,” she said automatically, which he immediately answered with a snort. “I mean,” she amended quickly, “No one I’m _interested_ in ever asks me.”

“How do you know you’re not interested if you don’t give them a chance?”

Sansa was beginning to pick up on the fact that Sandor seemed to like a healthy debate, and hells, if he could handle it, so could she. She thought about it for a moment, about what had turned her off to the handful of guys that had actually asked her out. 

“Bad first impressions,” she said. “I don’t go out much, but for example, once I was with Arya at a bar. This nice looking fellow came up to me and asked if he could buy me a drink, so I let him. One drink later, and he kept putting his hands on me – nothing too terribly inappropriate, but _still_. When he asked if he could see me again at the end of the night, I just knew I didn’t want to.

“Another time, I met someone in my neighborhood. We often crossed paths while we were both jogging. We struck up conversation and he seemed so nice. We asked me out to lunch one day and I agreed, but when I asked him where in the neighborhood he lived, he was very evasive. I started to worry that maybe he didn’t live there, that maybe he was a stalker or something. I sent him a text message and canceled lunch. I changed my usual jogging time so that I wouldn’t run into him. Then, a few days after the whole thing, a woman showed up at my door demanding to know why I was texting her husband.”

Sandor grimaced. “Took off his ring while jogging, did he?”

Sansa nodded. “Indeed. I apologized to his wife and told her I had no idea, but she wasn’t having any of it. Apparently, he’d told her that _I_ came onto _him_. She called me a homewrecker and all sorts of other things.” Sansa sighed. “Honestly, I haven’t felt like I was missing out on anything by not dating.” _Until you_ , she finished in her head, meeting his eyes with a wry smile. “What about you?”

“I haven’t missed it,” he said quickly, his eyes breaking away from hers and flicking out the black water. “Don’t like it much.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, feeling self-conscious again about the fact that she’d practically chased him. She forced herself to push on though. “Bad experiences?”

A caustic, bark of a humorless laugh escaped him and he looked at her, his expression harsh. But it immediately softened and he shook his head. “What do you think, Sansa? You’ve seen my face. Might be you think it doesn’t matter – but it does.”

Her shoulders sagged and she was at a loss. It wasn’t precisely that she _forgot_ about the extensive scarring on his face, it was just that it had never deterred her. _Come to think of it, nothing about him has deterred me_. It was a bit of a revelation considering how careful she was and she wondered again what made her so sure that diving head first into _whatever this was between them_ was the smart thing to do. 

Sandor must have had questions of his own because he ended their awkward silence by asking her a pointed question. “Why me? You just told me you don’t date, but you expect me to believe that I made you have a change of heart?” When she opened her mouth, ready to light into him over his words because she was _so tired_ of the negativity already, he held up a hand. “I’m not implying I don’t believe you. I’m just trying to understand.”

Her mouth snapped shut at that and the tension drained from her body. He was staring at her intently, her answer clearly important to him. She didn’t want to tell him that she hardly knew herself, but…that wasn’t really it, was it? 

She knew, but it was something difficult to put into words, something that was difficult to explain to someone else.

But for him, she took a deep breath and tried:

“When I first saw you at that try-out, it was honestly just attraction.” She paused for a moment, daring him to snort or make some self-deprecating comment. When he didn’t, she breathed a sigh of relief and carried on, despite the fact that she was embarrassed. “I was just a woman seeing a man I was attracted to,” she shrugged, praying that she wouldn’t start blushing. “You’re just…so tall and big…I’m getting off track here. Anyway, I just liked how you looked, okay?” He didn’t interrupt her, but she could see in his eyes that he was still hard-pressed to believe her, so she let more of the truth spill out. “I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t notice the scar or that it didn’t matter. I saw it, and of course I thought it was awful, but my reaction was more…” She trailed off as she thought about what she’d felt at the time. “…I remember flinching a bit because it looked as though it had been very painful.”

“It was,” he commented dryly when she paused.

“But it didn’t have any bearing on the fact that I was, well, immediately attracted to you.” _Drats, I’m going to blush_ , she thought, feeling heat spread up her neck. 

Sandor’s features softened and a gleam winked in his eye, something that looked a little like mischief. “Skylor would call it a crush.”

“I’d say that’s a good word for it, yes,” Sansa chuckled. “Anyway, it’s been a very long time since someone caught my eye like that and it was nice to just admire…” She trailed off, wondering if it was obvious that she had checked out _everything_. She remembered him squatting in front of her to warm up Skylor and how she’d admired his behind. 

He was studying her now, his eyes looking between hers. “And Skylor? Why did you agree to help her?”

Sansa realized what he was asking and rushed to assure him that it was _not_ what it sounded like. “I didn’t offer to help her just because I liked you…or rather, the way you looked. I love makeup and I love kids and…” Sansa shrugged, remembering how Skylor’s eyes had lit up, how hopeful she’d looked when she asked Sansa for makeup advice. “I never got to do any of that with Arya. It was fun and I hope that we can do it again sometime.

“But then, I saw how you were with her. You were gruff and a bit snappish, but I could tell that with her you were all hard candy shell on the outside but gooey softness on the inside,” she giggled nervously at her description of him and he glared at her, though the action came off as playful rather than menacing. “It just made me think that you were genuine, I guess.” She chewed at her lip, worrying that she wasn’t explaining her reasoning clearly. Her brow furrowed as she plowed on, “I suppose I thought that if you were gruff and snappish under normal circumstances, but soft with Skylor, that you were real.”

Now he looked truly confused. “Real?” He looked up and down his body exaggeratedly and it was Sansa’s turn to glare at him.

“I mean,” she said, catching his eye and raising her brows for emphasis, “That you didn’t come off as fake. You didn’t try to put on a nice show to impress me. In the industry I work in, people often put on a nice face for the world, but it turns out that they’re rotten inside. I’ve seen far too many rotten people who tried to hide it under false charm.” She shrugged a shoulder. “And the way you were with Skylor…it just made me think that you’re probably a one-in-a-million catch to those you care about. And I liked you, so I wanted to see what that would be like.”

It was more of her heart than she’d shown in a long time. It was a lot to unload on someone who had yet to take her on a date, but as unorthodox as this whole courting thing had been so far, Sansa thought that she might prefer it this way. Sandor had a chance to air out his concerns and she’d had a chance to explain – though maybe not as clearly as she wished – why she wanted a shot with him.

He didn’t say anything, but he reached out and enveloped her hand in his, intertwining their fingers and Sansa marveled that she had never felt such comfort just from warmth and roughness. His thumb brushed along hers and he jerked his head back toward the hotel.

“Probably should head back,” he rasped, pulling her along as he began walking.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Arya and Brienne were in the hallway, having evidently stepped out to cool off as they were both fanning themselves. When Arya’s eyes fell on them, her mouth dropped open and her hands went to her hips.

“What is this?” She indicated their clasped hands.

“Arya,” Sansa said wearily, not even able to muster up a tone of warning.

Sandor cleared his throat and ignored Arya’s gawking. “I’ve just come to tell Skylor good night.”

Arya waved towards the open door, vaguely indicating the dance floor. “She’s out there on the dance floor.”

Sandor’s eyebrow quirked. “Not still doing ‘the worm’, I hope?”

Arya shook her head. “When I stepped out, someone had acquired a pole…”

“A pole?” Sandor choked out, his spine straightening.

Arya gave him a suspicious look. “Yeah, like a _limbo_ pole.”

“I think they’re called limbo sticks,” Sansa said helpfully.

“I believe she’s right,” Brienne supplied helpfully, looking down at Arya. The height difference was almost comical.

“They are,” Sandor rasped, sounding somehow aggravated and relieved at the same time.

“ _Anyway_ , she was involved in the limbo game when I came out here,” Arya said.

Sandor nodded and let go of Sansa’s hand so he could go find his daughter. Sansa watched him go, not wanting to interrupt his farewell to his daughter. But she felt Arya’s eyes on her. Warily, she looked back, bracing herself for the interrogation to come.

“Where did the two of you go?” Arya asked, trying and failing miserably to adopt a tone suggestive of innocence.

Brienne, who seemed Sansa rather stoic most of the time, instantly looked _way_ more invested than Sansa would have expected from her. She stood up straighter and turned her attention to Sansa, clearly as curious as Arya.

“We just went for a walk,” Sansa told them honestly.

Arya took a step closer, eyes squinted as she studied Sansa’s face and neck.

“Arya, what in the Seven hells…” Sansa grasped her sister’s shoulder and pushed her back.

“I was trying to see if you had any hickeys,” Arya exclaimed in a tone that indicated her objective should’ve been obvious.

Brienne’s blue eyes slid to Arya, looking at her warily. “You’re a bit nosey, aren’t you?”

Arya scoffed and gave Brienne a disbelieving look. “She’s my _sister_. I have a right to be protective!”

“There’s nothing to be protect me from,” Sansa hissed. “Besides, I thought you _liked_ the idea of me dating.”

Arya shrugged. “I had hoped that the two of you would move past your awkward phase, yes, but you do have _shit_ luck with men, so I was just feeling a little protective.”

“He asked me on a date,” Sansa blurted, unable to hold in the news any longer. She grinned at Arya and even Brienne’s stoic expression softened. “I haven’t been on a date in _ages_.”

Arya’s expression softened a bit. “Where are you two going anyway?”

“Good question,” Sandor said, reappearing at Sansa’s side and giving her a meaningful look.

“I have to think about it!” Sansa said defensively.

“I’m gonna head out,” Sandor said, nodding at Brienne and Arya, but he paused when he caught Sansa’s eye.

She gave him a curious look, but when his eyes flickered to her mouth, she realized that he was contemplating a good-bye kiss, likely weighing the pros and cons of another public snogging session.

“I’ll walk you out,” Sansa offered, deciding then and there that she wasn’t going to miss out on any kisses if she could help it.

“You don’t have to,” he told her as they neared the lobby doors. “It’s cool out and I know you were chilly earlier.”

“Guess you’ll have to keep me warm,” she joked, waggling her eyebrows at him.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s a good thing you’re cute,” he muttered.

A couple of minutes later, they were standing in front of his truck, Sansa wrapped in his arms again. Three kisses in and Sansa was already sure that she had never enjoyed kissing as much as she did with him. The surprising softness of his mouth and the tickle of his beard thrilled her more than she would have thought possible. 

She also recognized the craving for more – because as amazing as it was to feel sweet pressure of his mouth on hers, she also longed to feel his lips gliding along the skin of her neck. As good as it was to feel his strong hands clasping onto her waist, she wanted him to wrap her in them completely. She wanted him to pull her so close that there was none of this wasted space between them. 

The kiss ended too soon and he immediately stepped back, putting even more space between them. She had the urge to step back into his arms and resume their previous activity, but she didn’t want to seem too needy.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he told her, then gave her a stern look. “And you better have a plan of what you want to do.”

She smiled back at him. “Fine, I’ll be thinking about it. Good night, Sandor.”

He stood there moment with his door open and just looked at her with a fondness that Sansa wasn’t sure she deserved just yet. For a few moments, Sansa thought that perhaps he was experiencing that same urge to rush back together and make it four kisses in one night. But he eventually climbed in his truck and Sansa stepped away as he backed out, shivering once again as the cool night air blew around her.

He rolled down his window as he put his truck into gear. “Until tomorrow, little bird.”

“I can hardly wait,” she said, too quietly for him to hear. She watched him drive away, but the small smile on her lips didn’t fade, even after she’d rejoined the party.


	14. I’m going to bust my ass on our first date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leave it to Sansa to pick something dangerous for their first date.

Sandor was a mess of nerves as soon as he woke up Saturday morning.

_Like I’ve never gone a fucking date_ , he thought sourly as he sat alone at his kitchen island, munching on too-sweet cereal.

It was weird not having Skylor around. It was the first time she’d ever been away from him and he figured that fact wasn’t helping his nerves. He kept itching to pick up his phone and text her just to make sure she’d made it through the night okay, but he restrained himself, not wanting to embarrass her. 

Eventually, after having too much coffee which only helped fuel his nerves, he found himself texting Margaery and casually mentioning that he had a date.

Of course, the woman couldn’t leave well enough alone, so she called him.

He groaned when he saw her name pop up on his phone, accompanied by some strange song that Skylor had set as Margaery’s personal ring tone. Grumbling to himself, he slid his thumb across the screen to accept the call and was immediately greeted by screeching.

“Fuck’s sake,” he groused, pulling the phone away from his ear and glaring at it.

“Sorry, mate!” He heard Bronn shout, clearly in the background. “She’s excited.”

“The fuck are you excited for?” He growled into the receiver, still keeping the phone safely away from his ear lest Margaery start squealing again.

“I’m excited for you, you big idiot!” She told him happily.

“I’ve been on dates before, Marge,” he reminded her. 

“Yes, yes, I know, but you’ve never told us about a date _before_ it happened, which means _this date_ is special! It’s Sansa, isn’t it? Oh, I already know it is, but tell me anyway!”

“Yeah,” he deadpanned, which resulted in more squealing.

“Oh, I bet Skylor is _excited_!”

Sandor cleared his throat and raised his voice to get Margaery’s attention. “She doesn’t know yet, Marge, so if you could, ya know, stop yourself from calling or texting her, I’d appreciate it.”

“Wait, why wouldn’t you tell her?” Margaery’s tone was a little more accusatory than Sandor liked and he knew he had to shut it down fast.

“It’s not a secret,” he rushed to tell her. “But Bitty is at that softball slumber party and all this just came about last night.”

“You asked her last night and already have a date? Boy, she must like you, Clegane.”

“Must,” he mumbled, trying not to let his mind wander down that path where he was constantly questioning things. 

“You must be excited too,” Margaery said. “Otherwise why would you tell me about a date that hasn’t happened yet?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Bronn’s voice sounded considerably closer now and Sandor got the impression that, not only had he moved closer, but Marge had put him on speaker phone. _Fucking perfect,_ he thought. Bronn continued, “The two of you are like girlfriends. Always gossiping, always the first to know each other’s business.”

Sandor glared down at the phone. “I am not Margaery’s girlfriend.”

“May as well be,” he griped. “Talk to her more than you do me.”

“Oh, don’t be so jealous,” Margaery admonished. “He’s got to have someone clever to talk to.”

“Yeah,” Sandor piped up. “Someone that doesn’t have shit for brains.”

“Hey!”

“Go away, Bronn!” Margaery told him and Sandor detected a noise that sounded vaguely like a slap.

Getting a little impatient with his friends, Sandor said, “Look, I just wanted to see if you had any ideas about where I could take her.”

“Hells, we don’t know the girl!” Bronn hollered, clearly not having followed Margaery’s orders.

“Women are indecisive though,” Margaery mused. “So I can see why you’re worried.”

“Just give her the d – “

“Bronn, do not finish that sentence!” Margaery said sternly.

“What? Worked on you,” Bronn joked.

“Fuck’s sake,” Sandor said again, hanging his head. His phone vibrated with a message from Sansa, so he quickly got off the phone with his friends.

_Sansa: Can’t wait for later_ _😊_

**Sandor: Hope you have something in mind because I’m lost. No idea what to do with you, little bird.**

_Sansa: Hmm. What if I have an idea? I’m just nervous that you might not like it._

**Sandor: Not gonna complain if you’re with me.**

_Sansa: Okay then. I was thinking about ice skating…? And dinner afterwards?_

“Ah, fuck,” Sandor grumbled, reading the sentence a second time to make sure he’d read it correctly. He conjured a mental image of his gigantic form trying to balance tiny blades on slippery ice. 

**Sandor: Ice skating??**

_Sansa: Well, yeah. I’m from the North, remember? I love ice skating. It’s not quite the same down here as it is up North, but there’s a rink in downtown._

It wasn't like he was ever going to deny her though. And if he happened to make a fool of himself by spending more time on his ass than on his feet, he’d just blame her. He smirked down at the phone.

**Sandor: Guess it’s a date then**

_Sansa: Are you sure you’re okay with it?_

**Sandor: Aye, little bird. Looking forward to it.**

_Sansa: Okay, see you then_ _😊_

*

“Bet they don’t have my size,” Sandor grumbled as he and Sansa moved toward the window.

“Oh, sure they do,” Sansa said, though she looked down at his feet doubtfully.

As it turned out, they did have his size, and within a few minutes he and Sansa were sitting on a bench just outside the rink, lacing up their ice skates.

“So, have you ever done this?” Sansa asked.

“Aye, once or twice as a kid,” he admitted. _I’m going to bust my ass on our first date_. “Not an expert like you.”

He had meant it to tease her, but she didn’t deny it, and when he stole another glance at her, she was clearly trying to fight a proud little smirk.

_I’m so fucked_.

Sansa stood up and patiently waited for him to finish tying his skates, and then he stood up, giving himself a mental pat on the back for not immediately toppling over. 

“Ready?” She asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Aye, ready as I’ll ever be.”

Sansa stepped out onto the ice and glided a few feet, then seemed to think better of it, and circled back around to him.

“You can hold onto the wall if you need to,” she said helpfully.

He rolled his eyes. “Not a wuss, little bird.”

She pressed her lips together, obviously trying to hide her enjoyment at seeing him so far out of his comfort zone.

He stepped out onto the rink and took a moment to look at Sansa. She looked so fucking happy, just to be here with him. And damned if it didn’t make him happy, and more light-hearted than he normally felt, so he smirked down at her.

“Probably need to hold your hand though.”

The smile grew and she bit down onto her lip to stifle a laugh. Then she held out her hand.

Sandor laced his fingers with hers and they were off. 

To Sansa’s credit, she went slow, barely gliding along as he moved awkwardly at her side. If anyone cared to pay attention to them, they would find an amusing scene of a gorgeous redhead leading around a big oaf so he wouldn’t take a tumble and land on his bottom. But Sandor found he didn’t care. It was worth it to hold onto her hand, to take peeks at her from the corner of his eye as she giggled about their slow progress.

After several trips around the rink, Sandor felt like he’d finally gotten the hang of it enough to let go of Sansa’s hand. She was efficient enough on the skates that she could take off ahead of him and be back around the rink at his side in so little time that he only missed her a little bit. 

On one trip around, a teenage boy, who had about as much experience on ice skates as Sandor, fell right in front of him. Sandor somehow managed to dodge the boy, who was sprawled out helplessly, without falling down.

“You’re doing so good!” Sansa cooed encouragingly, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “If you weren’t sure that you could outrun me, you wouldn’t be teasing me so much.”

She rotated on the ice, now moving backward on her skates, occasionally peering over her shoulder to make sure no one was in her way. “Is that so?” She lifted an auburn eyebrow and tilted her head to the side, looking very much like a little bird in that moment. “What if I want to be caught?”

That startled a laugh out of him and he wobbled momentarily, fighting to stay on his feet. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Sansa slowed almost to a stop, but Sandor wasn’t near that efficient, so he experienced mild panic when he found himself sliding right toward her. He threw his arms out, clutching at her waist in an attempt to soften the blow of knocking into her, but she just laughed, her hands coming to rest on his biceps.

“I think I know exactly what I’m asking for,” she said, sounding a little breathless, heat staining her cheeks pink.

And what was it about this woman that made him not give a flying fuck about where he was at? He’d always been the kind of person who frowned on PDA, but so far, he’d kissed her beneath a mistletoe in full view of a roomful of people, and he’d smooched her outside a busy hotel.

And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to take advantage of the proximity.

To her credit, Sansa seemed to expect it, and took pity on him by attempting to steady his frame as he leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to her lips. He had planned it to be chaste – they were, after all, in a very public setting and he was throwing off his center of balance while standing on an ice rink – but nothing with Sansa could be so easy.

Her lips were so soft, and she tasted sweet and warm, and soon the innocent brush of lips became something else. His hands moved from her waist to wrap around her back and he tugged her closer, slanting his mouth over hers. Her arms looped around his neck, and he heard and felt a tiny, contented sigh escape through her nose as she kissed him back. 

_She can’t be real,_ he mused, even though there was no denying the very real feel of her mouth beneath his. Her hands tangled in the hair at his nape and pulled gently, tilting his head to get a better angle and Sandor was lost. It didn’t matter that he was bending at an awkward angle to be able to reach her, or that they had come to a slow crawl on the ice, or that there was a hundred people around them, probably wondering why the hell a creature as beautiful as Sansa had let an old, ugly dog touch her.

What was the term kids used nowadays? 

_Zero fucks given_.

When they finally decided that breathing was necessary and they couldn’t just keep making out indefinitely in the middle of an ice rink, Sansa gently pulled away, lips swollen and pink and blue eyes so soft.

And now that she had pulled away, Sandor became aware of the crick in his neck from where he’d bent down. He straightened up, albeit too quickly, which turned out to be a mistake.

His left foot did _something_ , twisted somehow, and everything afterward seemed to move in slow motion. He wobbled, telling himself he needed to push himself away from Sansa to avoid falling on her, all while his body did something completely different.

He clutched her waist as he lost his center of balance, and he saw her eyes widen when she realized what was going on.

“Sandor…” she said warningly, gripping his shirt at the shoulders as though she could somehow steady someone twice her weight.

He was too far gone though. Now both his skates were scrabbling against the ice as he did everything he could not to throw his hands up and wave them in some sorry attempt to regain his balance. 

For her part, Sansa had now abandoned her sweet attempt to steady him and was now focused solely on self-preservation. She tried to untangle herself from him, but his stupid hands wouldn’t unclench themselves from her waist. 

“Oh, _oh!_ ” She squeaked, half a second before his tenuous grip on his balance gave way completely and he pitched forward right into her.

To his credit, he managed to somewhat catch himself, bracing his hands on the ice as they both crashed – the only plus side to this being that he hadn’t crushed her completely.

Sandor didn’t often blush, but he could feel heat creeping up his neck as he met her eyes. 

Then he stilled completely, frozen at the absolute _vision_ of her lying beneath him, her copper hair splayed out on the ice, her cheeks rosy, and her blue eyes dancing with mirth.

_So fucking beautiful_.

And so, because he had _already_ committed PDA and because he had _already_ embarrassed himself by collapsing on top of her like a huge klutz, he thought _fuck it all_ and leaned to kiss her again, a bit more innocently than the previous kiss. He felt the vibration of her laugh against his mouth before he pulled away, looking down at her apologetically.

Her hand reached up, her fingers brushing over his beard, her thumb rubbing along the corner of his mouth. She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re heavy.”

“Right,” he said hastily, struggling to move off her. 

He was finally able to push off her and stand up, wobbling only a little bit. He reached down to offer her his hand and she just shook her head and chuckled. He smirked back wryly as he watched her stand up on her own easily.

He cleared his throat, embarrassment finally catching up with him a bit as he worried that he might have hurt her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, slipping her hand back into his. “How about we take one more lap and then grab food?”

“Food is a lot less dangerous than this, so I’m good with it,” he grumbled.

*

Going out to eat with Sansa was nothing new; he’d been doing it weekly for a bit now, but it was a little strange that it was just the two of them and no Skylor. If he’d worried about it being awkward though, it was unfounded. 

The steak house he chose was somewhere he wouldn’t have taken Skylor anyway. The kid hated steak and the other menu options weren’t up to her standards either. If one could call chicken tenders and pizza a standard.

As it turned out, Sansa made the meal as easy as it had always been. She asked him questions about his work, which he kept trying to steer her away from. 

“We don’t have to talk about my job, little bird. I know you’re just being polite,” he squeezed her leg under the table, inexplicably delighted that she’d chosen to sit next to him rather than across from him.

She turned to him and he noticed that little crinkle between her brows that she got when he said something that annoyed her. How did he already know her so well?

“I’m not just being polite,” she sniffed. “I think it’s an interesting job. You’re in charge of big projects and you have to keep a bunch of people in line and meet crazy deadlines. You clearly work hard and I…like that.” She shrugged, looking back down at her half-eaten steak.

“It’s not glamorous. Not like what you do,” he commented, swirling his last steak fry in ketchup and shooting her a knowing look.

“I don’t do it for the glamor, you know,” she told him. “Or rather…I didn’t start out doing it with the goal of being well-known. It honestly just came from a love of makeup and a knowledge of how to utilize it.” She rolled her eyes and let out a small laugh. “Actually, my friend Jeyne, who controls my social media accounts, often tells me that I’m not nearly active enough on my platforms. She thinks I need to post more live videos, get in touch with my viewers on a different level, share more of my life,” she frowned a little at that, and he realized that it was an idea she didn’t really like.

“Odd little bird,” he rumbled, unable to stop the smirk twisting his mouth. “You’re a YouTuber who wants privacy. Interesting.”

“Only in certain aspects,” she defended, Then, after a pause, “Okay, maybe most aspects, but I’ve had experience before in my life where I had very little privacy, and the thought of constantly posting my life in fifteen minute increments on Instagram doesn’t appeal to me.”

He marveled at her. He knew that, after knowing her for several weeks now, he shouldn’t be surprised at this revelation, but it was just so different from what he thought she’d be when he saw her first video. A woman so beautiful, so vibrant, so smart, and so good at what she did had every right to soak up all the attention that people might throw at her.

But she didn’t desire it, and for some reason, it made Sandor like her even more.

It was still early when he drove her home, and a big part of him wasn’t ready to part with her. As they stood on her front doorstep, making out like a couple of teenagers, he wondered what he’d say if she tried to invite him in. He didn’t think she was that kind of woman, and though he was determined to proceed with caution, it would be hard to tell her no.

When Sansa pulled away, she did look like she wanted to say something, opening her mouth, a question clearly on her lips – then she seemed to think better of it and smiled instead. “Good night, Sandor.”

Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night, Sansa.”

*

The drive home with Skylor the next day was filled with chatter about the weekend’s events. There had been games, they had played harmless pranks, and had gotten to know the other Lion Pride teams. Sandor kept waiting for a break in the conversation to tell Skylor about Sansa, but his daughter proved that she could talk for hours on end, so he just kept quiet for a while, listening to her gush about how fond of her teammates she’d become.

When they finally arrived him, the kid finally decided to take a breath. As she hopped up on the barstool, a bowl of cereal in front of her, she gave him a curious look. “So what did you do all weekend?”

He eyed her critically, looking for any signs that she was suspicious, that this was a loaded question. She hadn’t mentioned hearing about his makeup session under the mistletoe. It seemed too far-fetched that no one had seen it, but he supposed it could have been any of the adults there and that a couple of grownups making out was of no importance to her.

“Worried about me, eh?” He asked her.

She shrugged, crunching on her cereal. She swallowed her bite and said, “I’m just impressed you didn’t call me every five minutes.”

“Maybe I was busy,” he said, as nonchalantly as he could muster.

She snorted, making milk dribble down her chin. “As if.”

He frowned at her table manners. “You animal,” he said mildly.

She shrugged again. “I’m hungry. Anyway, I’m serious…what _did_ you do while I was away?”

“Went on a date,” he deadpanned.

Skylor reacted so violently that she spewed a bit of milk back into her bowl. She looked up at him with wide eyes, studying his face for deception. She wouldn’t find any though. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re serious?”

“Aye.”

Her eyes widened again and she sat up straight, staring at him unblinkingly. “….Sansa?!”

“Aye,” he said again, as though it was hardly a big deal.

“Dad!! You dog!” She squealed, hopping off the barstool and barreling toward him.

She crashed into him, knocking the air out of him as she hugged his waist. “I’m so happy!” She was jumping up and down while somehow still holding onto his waist.

“Fuck’s sake, be still,” he groused, laying his hands on her shoulders and pushing her away. “You’re giving me motion sickness.”

“So – wait, I have to know – did she ask you or did you ask her?”

He sniffed, “I asked her. Of course.”

“Where did you go?”

He frowned. “Ice skating.”

“Oh, ho ho, I would have paid _good money_ to see that!”

“What money?” He asked, rolling his eyes. “If you have money, I’d like to know why you’re always spending mine.”

Skylor clapped gleefuly, “Oh, I’ve got to text Aunt Marge!” She scurried away, presumably to retrieve her phone, but froze suddenly and turned back to him. “Dad?”

“Hmm?”

The delight had faded slightly as she studied him, her brow furrowing a bit. “The date – did you enjoy it? Did you have a good time?”

Something in his chest tightened at her earnest expression. Because when it got down to it, all the teasing, all the playful torment from his kid was only the surface of a girl with a good heart. He wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but somehow he’d managed to raise a kid who genuinely cared about other people’s happiness. 

He let his mouth curl into a rare smile, wanting to ease the concern she felt for him. “Aye, Bitty. We had a good time.”

Skylor visibly relaxed and grinned back at him. “Good. I’m glad.”


	15. I shouldn't be hearing any of this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops. 
> 
> Angst.

In the weeks following her date with Sandor, Sansa tried not to get too bent out of shape about the lack of a second date. The smitten young woman part of her was desperate for an official second date, and a third, and so on. But the mature, rational part of her remembered that Sandor was a single parent who greatly valued his time with his kid. With Skylor being out of school for the holidays, Sansa knew that Sandor was spending as much extra time with her as he could.

So Sansa focused on her channel and creating new content. Every few months, she did a video recommending her favorite drug store brands and the videos were incredibly popular. 

_ “Hey, everybody! It’s that time again! Time to show some love to the drug store brands that I can’t live without! Today’s video will feature Revlon ColorStay foundation, Almay Healthy Hue blush, Maybelline Nudes eyeshadow palette, and Essence You Better Work! Volume and Curl mascara - waterproof, of course!” _

There were still some bullies hovering in the comment section of her videos, ready to drag her down over the Joffrey incident even though it had been a couple of months since it happened. Sansa took it in a stride, though she was secretly overcome with affection for Arya, who threatened to hunt down all the meanies and give them wedgies.

Once batting practice picked back up in January, Sansa still attended regularly and still went out to eat with Sandor and Skylor afterwards. 

She didn’t get her second date until mid-January on a Friday night. Skylor was on a shopping trip with Margaery Tyrell, so Sandor invited her over to watch a movie. 

Sansa stressed about what to wear, knowing that there was no point in dressing up, but she also wasn’t quite ready to pull out the sweat pants on the second date. So she settled on her most comfortable pair of jeans and an old, soft cashmere sweater that had once belonged to her mother. Black flats and minimal makeup completed the look. 

Sandor had offered to pick her up, stuck as he was in a traditional mindset that ladies should be picked up for dates. She told him it was unnecessary and drove over herself.

Sansa had never been to his house. It was located in the historical district of King’s Landing near the ruins of the Red Keep. Houses dating back a hundred years or more stood in the shadow of the castle walls. Despite their age, all of the homes were well kept, and when she pulled into Sandor’s driveway, Sansa found herself letting out a little sigh. 

It was  _ adorable _ .

She wouldn’t tell him that, of course. He’d probably take offense.

Sandor’s home was light grey in color with a wide front porch and a bay window on the right side. His front door was painted bright red. Two slender, vertical windows on the door displayed stained glass. Two rocking chairs sat to the right of the door and a small, white table sat between them.

She didn’t know why she was so nervous, she’d already spent enough time with Sandor that she figured any nerves would have worn off. But then again, this was the first time she’d be seeing his house. Hopefully, the first of many.

When he opened the door, he gave her that crooked half smile that she was so fond of and stepped inside to let her in.

But before she could make it through the door, his arms encircled her waist and he snatched her inside, pulling her against his chest as she let out a squeak of surprise. She looked up at him, a bit breathless with both laughter and being in such close proximity, but before she could say anything, his mouth was on her, effectively halting anything she might’ve said.

And,  _ oh _ , she could get very used to being greeted like this.

Sansa’s arms curled around his neck as she went to her tiptoes, trying to take some strain off him from having to bend so low. His hands ran up and down her back and she fought a shiver of pleasure.

_ Down girl _ , she told herself.  _ This is only the second date. _

When they finally broke apart, Sansa finally noticed the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.

“You cooked?” She asked him.

His brows drew together. “Don’t act shocked,” he rasped in mock defense. “I’m capable enough.”

“Oh, well, it’s just that you and Skylor…”

“Skylor prefers frozen chicken nuggets to anything that resembles real food,” he grunted with a roll of his eyes. “That, or pizza rolls.”

Sansa inhaled again, enjoying the rich smells wafting through his house. “What a wasted talent,” she joked.

“Parmesan chicken, baked,” he shrugged. “Not exactly an expert-level dish.”

“Well, considering I thought we would be eating takeout, I’m very pleasantly surprised.”

He frowned at that a little, but seemed to shake it off quick enough, creating some space between them so that he could show her around. 

The hardwood floors were a finished black walnut. There were perhaps more walls and doorways than Sansa was accustomed to, spoiled as she was by her open floor plan. The doors displayed antique door knobs - small, fluted crystal things that shimmered when the light caught on them.

The living room boasted a beautiful fireplace with a carved oak mantle, though Sansa lamented that there was no fire despite the chill outside. Then she remembered that Sandor might be the last person that would ever want an open flame in his house.

The kitchen was small, but that hardly mattered when the formal dining room was as large as Sandor’s. He opted not to use it though, instead leading her into the living room and turning on a movie as they ate their meals.

“You know, I’ve never had someone cook for me on a date,” Sansa told him.

“Me either,” Sandor snorted.

Sansa couldn’t quell her interest regarding his dating history. He’d told her, of course, that he didn’t really date, but her curiosity about Skylor’s mom was endless. They’d talked a bit about her before they’d even expressed explicit interest in each other, but she didn’t want to come across nosy by asking questions, so she decided to let it go.

When they were done eating, Sandor paused the movie and quickly carried their plates into the kitchen, telling her to stay put. 

“I can help you clean up,” she said, already lifting herself off the couch.

“Sit!” The barked order might have sounded harsh, had she not been used to him by now.

She sat back down anyway, making herself comfortable as she heard the dishwasher start. A chime and a vibration startled her, and she bent down to her purse, inspecting her phone for messages. She had the usual ridiculous amount of notifications from YouTube and Instagram, but no texts.

She realized it must have been Sandor’s at the same time that the ringing started. His phone was wedged between the couch cushions, so she carefully extracted it and laid it on the table, careful not to look at it because she didn’t want to invade his privacy.

Sandor poked his head back into the living room, frowning slightly. “Who the buggering hell…”

Sansa’s eyebrows rose at his language, though she was incapable of keeping the amused grin from her lips. He strolled back into the room, lifting his phone to inspect the caller ID. His frown deepened, and Sansa felt her expression mirror his.

He ignored the call and sat the phone back down on the table, then resumed the movie, though when he draped his arm around Sansa’s shoulder, she could tell he was tense.

“Not Skylor then?” She ventured, trying to keep her tone light.

“No,” he said gruffly, but didn’t elaborate. He squeezed her shoulder, as if to let her know that his sudden annoyance had nothing to do with her, so Sansa relaxed and curled into his side, her head resting in the crook of his arm.

Around twenty minutes later, the phone started ringing again. Sandor quickly leaned over, ignored the call, then sat back, growling low in frustration.

Sansa was torn between asking what was going on to see if she could help or just continuing to ignore the situation since Sandor didn’t seem to want to acknowledge it. Three rapid-fire text messages lit up his phone, presumably from the same person. 

He growled again, leaping up so quickly he displaced Sansa, who fell into the cushions with an undignified squeak. His thumbs brutally tapped at the screen as he seemingly replied to the text messages, then he powered off his phone, dropping it onto the table with a clatter.

When he looked back to Sansa, he deflated a little, letting loose a heavy sigh.

She cleared her throat delicately, “Anything I can help with?”

“No, it’s just…” he plopped back down onto the couch. “Shit’s not worth my time, so it’s  _ really _ not worth yours.”

His arm came around her again, but he looked so troubled that Sansa’s comforting instincts kicked in. She moved in closer to his side, her hand drifting across his chest as she laid her head back on his shoulder, twisting so she could look up at him. His eyes slid to hers and he seemed to relax a bit. His free hand came up to cover hers that was now hovering over his heart. 

Whatever had been in that text, it had clearly agitated him. She could feel the quick pulses of his heartbeat under her hand. She could tell from the set of his jaw that he had clenched his teeth. 

“It’s Bitty’s grandmother,” he admitted finally.

“Oh,” Sansa said, unsure what else to say. She hadn’t really formed an opinion on  _ who _ could be causing her date such irritation. “Um, is she...okay?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” His fingers toyed with the ends of her loose hair. “Not letting her ruin this though.”

“I don’t think anyone could ruin it,” she said softly, smiling up at him.

His features visibly relaxed as he studied her face. He lifted the hands that had been covering hers, reaching out to brush his knuckles against her cheek.

It was such a sweet, gentle show of affection that Sansa found herself drawing closer, her eyes fluttering as she leaned into his hand. 

For the life of her, she couldn’t even remember what the movie they were watching was about.

Sandor, who had never had any qualms about initiating kisses before, stubbornly stayed put, even as she tilted her face up toward his. She heard him snort softly in amusement and her eyes opened back up, one perfectly manicured eyebrow lifting.

The look in his eyes was downright mischievous. “Sometimes,” he said matter of factly, “You have to take what you want.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in a grin, and  _ then _ , he had the audacity to turn his attention  _ back to the movie _ .

_ I can be brave _ , Sansa thought, chewing on her lip as she studied his face. He was still resolutely looking at the television screen.

Later, Sansa would wonder over where she’d found the courage to do it - but at that moment, she took a deep breath, sat up on her knees, and threw one leg across Sandor’s hips, straddling his lap.

The look on his face would’ve been worth it even if she had done nothing else.

She was rewarded with a solid two seconds of Sandor’s thoroughly astonished expression before she leaned down and kissed him.

She wondered if the feeling of kissing would ever wear off. Later, Sansa would remember that making out with other partners usually ended up with her mind wandering to other matters, enduring clumsy tongues and teeth until the guy had finished.

But everything so far had been different with Sandor.

Kissing included.

She lost herself in the kiss, so focused on the sweet, slow sweep of his tongue into her mouth that there was no room in her head for anything else.

Her hand came up to his scarred cheek, the twisted tissue near his eye was discernible under her fingertips and she could feel the gentle rasp of his beard beneath her palm. He had one large hand curled around her neck, and the other gripping her hip in the space between her jeans and her sweater where her skin was exposed.

And his hand was  _ so warm _ . 

When he began drawing circles with his fingertips, Sansa moaned pitifully into his mouth, nipping at his lips when he pulled back slightly to look at her.

And that  _ damn _ smirk was back. “Brave little bird.”

His large hands settled on the curve of her waist, and she felt so small and delicate under his touch. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and his hands squeezed at her waist affectionately.

And the look in his eyes…

Her whole body reacted, growing warm under the scrutiny of his hungry look, and almost  _ itchy _ as though there was something fighting beneath her skin to come out. She surged forward, capturing his lips with hers again. A faint sound caught in his throat and he pulled her closer until they were chest to chest. 

Sandor’s hands moved up and down her torso, gliding from her waist, down to her hips, up to her ribs, and back down, leaving trails of heat everywhere he touched. And she found herself squirming in his lap a bit, wishing he’d go  _ just a little higher _ , hoping that maybe his thumbs would graze her breasts by accident, or on purpose, or  _ whatever _ at this point because she was just so desperate for him to touch her.

She was feeling daring and had almost gained enough courage to move his hand herself to where she wanted him to touch her when the sound of knocking startled her so thoroughly that she jumped out of his lap.

“The fuck?” He growled, glaring toward his entryway. 

Sansa’s brow furrowed. “You have a doorbell, why are they knocking…”

Sandor threw her an exasperated look, clearly not as bothered by the fact that someone was  _ knocking _ as he was by someone standing at his front door in the first place.

Belatedly, Sansa realized that the knocking hadn’t ceased at all. It wasn’t a few quick knocks - rather, it was the sound of repetitive, uninterrupted  _ banging _ .

Sandor surged off the couch and stomped to the front door, while Sansa sat back down, trying to catch her breath and steady her rapidly beating heart.

“What the fuck?!” She jumped again at the sound of the absolute  _ fury _ evident in Sandor’s voice. She stood up, her nerves getting the better of her. He had lowered his voice after his initial bark of indignation over whatever he found on the other side of that door, but she could make out his deep, low tone of voice, though not the words.

Again her better judgment, Sansa crept into the entryway, convincing herself it was to make sure he was okay. He was standing there, his entire body radiating outrage, all while speaking furiously to a woman standing on the other side of the threshold. 

Sansa frowned at the scene, more than a little alarmed that Sandor was being so aggressive to a random stranger.

Unless…

Maybe she wasn’t a stranger.

Because she was looking at him pleadingly, trying to cut in every few words, her tone seemingly calm and patient. She was wringing her hands and shaking her head, her chin-length blonde hair swishing around her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were wide and dark and they never wavered from Sandor’s face.

It struck Sansa then.

_ She’s not afraid of him either. _

She must have stood there gaping only a few moments before the woman at the door caught sight of her and froze completely. Sandor stiffened and turned around, his shoulders sagging when he saw Sansa standing a few feet behind him.

He turned back to the woman, “You need to go, Tara.”

_ Oh. _

“I-I didn’t mean to interrupt. I apologize,” the woman stammered, her eyes darting between Sansa and Sandor. “It’s just...Sandor, please, think about what I said.” The woman backed up a few steps, clearly ready to leave once she realized she was interrupting something. “I don’t have to see her right now since you have company, but…”

“She isn’t here anyway,” Sandor said. 

The woman -  _ Tara _ \- nodded, and then ducked her head, her whole body deflating. “Please think about it,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper, though Sansa heard her clearly. 

_ I don’t need to be here _ , Sansa thought, mortified.  _ This is private. I shouldn’t be hearing any of this _ .

Sansa could practically feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. Her mouth had gone dry and time seemed to have frozen as she watched the woman stand there, hanging her head, seemingly waiting for an answer.

“I need to go,” Sansa croaked, making a mad dash back to the living room to collect her things. 

“Sansa, no…” Sandor started, but before he could follow her, she’d made it back to the entryway.

Skylor’s mother looked as horrified as Sansa felt, her pretty skin flushing pink, her mouth hanging open as she shook her head.

“No, ma’am. It’s okay. I’ll go,” she turned halfway, but Sansa was already squeezing by Sandor, awkwardly avoiding the woman’s curious gaze.

Sansa spun back around, unable to leave without a farewell, but the words died in her throat when she saw his face.

She expected him to still be mad about the interruption. She even imagined that he might be mad that she was leaving, though everything in her was telling her to get out of there  _ right now _ .

She didn’t expect him to look hurt and...somewhat resigned, maybe. Almost as though he’d expected this reaction. Sansa hesitated on the front porch steps, her mouth opening and closing, but no words coming forth to provide any kind of reassurance. Her eyes slid to the woman standing to her right, who was still rather flushed.

“I...figure you the two of you need to talk,” she nodded, as though affirming her own statement. “Call me…later, or text...if you want, I guess,” she added weakly, her eyes dropping down to her feet.

After a couple of deep breaths, Sansa turned around resolutely and headed to her car.

Sandor didn’t call after her. He had to know at that point that it wouldn’t have made any difference.

When Sansa was finally safe inside her car, she let her head fall back against the headrest, thumping it softly again and again.

“What have I gotten myself into?” She whispered aloud, too shaken to take another look at the figures on the front porch, who were probably still watching her.

She started her car and backed out, a million thoughts running through her head.

Clearly,  _ that _ was why Skylor’s grandmother had been calling and texting repeatedly. Sansa wondered what the content of the messages had been. Had the grandmother been trying to warn Sandor, or had the messages been vague enough that Sandor truly had no idea that there was a possibility of Tara ending up on his doorstep?

And hadn’t it been nine years since he’d last seen her? Or maybe it had been nine years since she’d left, but she’d been around since then...Sansa couldn’t remember the details, but the embarrassment of being caught in that situation along with the morbid curiosity she was nurturing made for a worrisome topic to think over as she drove home.

_ Maybe I’m cursed _ , she thought in bitter amusement.  _ The man I want to spend all my free time with, who hasn’t seen his ex in years, suddenly has said ex standing on his front porch - in the middle of our date, no doubt _ .

And then, because Sansa was emotional and apparently because it wasn’t enough for her to be stressed out by the situation, she felt the tell-tale stinging in her eyes that signaled tears were on the way.

“Damn it!” She swore, smacking her hand against the steering wheel.

****  
_ Just let me get home without losing it _ , she thought frantically.  _ Just let me make it home before I start crying so hard I can’t see. _   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Hi. Hello.
> 
> So. I'm not dead.
> 
> Also, please don't kill me for the angst.
> 
> I can't write a story without it so.


	16. Who knows what we could’ve got up to if we hadn’t been interrupted

Sandor’s fingers curled into a fist as he watched Sansa’s car disappear down the street. His eyes flicked back to Tara, who at the very least, looked ashamed of herself. 

She was still standing on his front porch though when all he wanted was for her to leave. 

Several threats made their way to the edge of his tongue just then.  _ Get lost or I’ll call the cops. Leave now, or you’ll never see Skylor, no matter how much better you are _ .

He pushed them aside and took a deep breath and closed the door behind him, effectively joining her on the porch.

“So,” Tara started, staring down at her shoes. She peeked up at him, and after a beat said, “She’s really pretty.”

He shot her a glare that he was a bit disappointed to note had no effect on her.

“I’m sorry for interrupting...whatever that was,” she said. She sounded sincere. “What was that exactly?”

Sandor crossed his arms over his chest, not easing up on the look he was giving her.

“She looks really young…” Tara continued, raising her eyebrows.

“Shouldn’t you be selling me one good reason to let you see Skylor instead of poking around in my business?”

She opened her mouth, a look of indignation crossing her face and he just  _ knew _ that she was about to say something stupid along the lines of having the right to poke around in his business because of their child, but she wisely snapped her mouth shut and returned his glare.

She took a shaky breath, apparently to calm herself, and started over. “I graduated from the program. I’ve been clean since the last time we spoke. I guess I could’ve tried to contact you while I was in the program, but…” She pressed her lips together and looked away, the empty street somehow far more interesting for some reason. “I guess I just wanted to be completely clean before I tried to convince you to let me see her.”

“I don’t have to let you see her,” Sandor reminded her. “You lost your rights to her.”

She flinched and her eyes dropped back to her shoes. “I know,” she said quietly. “I just thought I’d ask. I don’t...I don’t know her, but I’d like to. Mom has photos of her and she’s so beautiful.”

Sandor detected the crack in her voice and fidgeted uncomfortably when he realized she was crying. He’d never quite learned how to handle someone else’s tears. 

“Smart, too,” he added, looking anywhere but at the crying woman in front of him. Then he added, gruffly, “Funny, sweet. You’ve missed a lot.”

He caught her nodding in agreement in his peripherals. She sniffled and Sandor took a deep breath, deciding he needed to stop being so squeamish around emotions.

“You can’t see her,” he said. “Not yet,” he added when Tara breathed in a rattling gasp that was sure to precede a sob. “You can...maybe come to her games first. I can keep you in the loop, I guess.” He shrugged, thinking of ways that he could ease into this. “I just don’t want to overwhelm her if…” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows as she studied his face.

“If I fall off the wagon again?” She finished flatly.

“Aye, something like that.”

She stood there for a few silent seconds before meeting his eyes, a look of resolve settling on her features. She nodded. “Okay, then. It’s better than I could’ve hoped for.”

*

An hour after Sansa’s dramatic exit, Skylor was dropped off by Margaery, thankfully none the wiser about her mother having shown up. As she pulled out all the things that she’d bought and showed them to him, he wondered whether or not he should tell her what had happened.

They never talked about her mother, not even in the subtlest of terms. Tara had been too dangerous to be allowed visitation for the last couple of years before she completely lost rights to her; but now Sandor could grudgingly admit that Tara looked healthier than she had since before Skylor was born. Her words weren’t slurred, her eyes were clear, and she seemed genuinely remorseful of things that she’d done - not that he’d gone into great detail about all his grievances with her.

It had been eighteen months since Tara had showed up on his job site and he’d had the cops called to her. She’d been high as a kite, but had told him it would be her last high because she was entering rehab. 

He hadn’t believed her, not really. He’d just been desperate to get her away from his project. He hadn’t even mentioned it to Skylor, but later he’d found out that Skylor’s grandmother had confirmed to her that Tara was in rehab. Skylor only mentioned it to him in passing.

Sandor had no idea if Skylor even  _ wanted _ to give Tara a chance. He was torn. Part of him wanted to leave it all up to Skylor. She was the one who’d been abandoned after all. But then, he reminded himself that she was still just a child, and any decision she made was going to be based solely on her emotions rather than logic.

A few years ago, Sandor would’ve been vindictive about the whole situation. He would’ve told Tara to go fuck herself and leave his kid alone. There were old instincts there that told him to fight Tara every step of the way, to tell her that he had no interest in making this easy for her at all.

But no matter what he did, it wouldn’t be easy anyway.

He did something that he had failed to do many times before. He decided to look at it from Tara’s perspective.

She hadn’t seen her child in nine years. She’d battled demons to rival his own. She’d lost everything and was now letting go of her pride by showing up on his doorstep and asking for a chance to know her daughter.

The old Sandor would’ve  _ definitely _ told her to fuck off.

But the  _ older _ Sandor, pushing middle-age and having his own share of regret, decided to take Tara’s proposal into consideration. The problem now was how to tell Skylor.

When Skylor finished showing off her stuff, she covered a huge yawn with her hand, and Sandor was halfway to convincing that springing something like this on her when she was dead on her feet was probably not the best option.

But Skylor couldn’t leave well enough alone, of course.

“How’d your date go?” He froze at the kitchen door and turned back to her slowly.

She was standing in the hallway off the living room, giving him an expectant look.

“It went okay,” he rumbled noncommittally, knowing that any detail of his date with Sansa would likely require him to spill all the beans.

Thankfully, Skylor seemed too tired to keep prodding, and just nodded before turning down the hallway.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered a curse under his breath before going after her. “Skylor, wait…” He caught her in the hallway, just outside her room. And she was no idiot because the look on her face made it clear that she knew something was up.

“Did it not go well?” She was giving him a wary look and he got the impression that she was judging him a bit. Maybe she thought he’d screwed the whole thing up.

“It was fine for the most part,” he blew out an exasperated breath and mumbled, “Til your mom showed up.”

It wasn’t the right way to deliver the news. He should’ve known that. When he managed to look back up at her, Skylor was leaning against her door jamb, grey eyes wide, her face drained of color.

_ Idiot _ , he thought to himself angrily. Why couldn’t he just do something gently for once in his damned life?

“Skylor?” He asked hesitantly.

“She was here, for real?” She mumbled, her lips barely moving.

“Aye,” he said.

“Oh,” then she slid down her doorway and into the floor, looking so lost that he took a quick couple of steps with the idea of trying to comfort her. But she held up her hand. “I’m good, I’m fine.”

He backed off, giving her space, and watched as she immediately began nibbling at her nails. He opened his mouth to tell her that that wasn’t a good habit for pitchers, but decided that he’d let her do whatever she wanted in the face of this crisis she seemed to find herself in.

“Dad,” she mumbled, her eyes fixed on some random point down the dark hallway.

“Yeah?”

“What did she want?” 

He scrubbed at his face with both hands. “She wanted to see you.”

“Oh?” Her gaze flickered up to his. “And…?”

He tilted his head, trying to read the expressions on her face in the dark hallway. She almost looked...hopeful?

“I don’t know how I feel about it just yet,” he rasped, still studying her face. “She just got out of rehab.”

Skylor nodded, her eyes darting down to the fingernails she was gnawing on. “But if it looks like it’s safe...however long it takes you to decide that,” she rushed to say, giving a little shrug, “Do you think I could…? See her, that is?”

The silence stretched between them as he stared at her. He had never seen her look so unsure of herself, so confused, and maybe a little tormented, but also, decidedly hopeful.

He gave her a nod, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “We’ll see, okay? I just want it to be safe.” He watched her for a bit longer until she picked herself up and gave him a nod. “Okay?” He asked again, though this time, he meant  _ her _ , not his decision on the situation.

After a moment, she huffed and gave him an odd smile. “Yeah, okay.”

*

Sandor collapsed into bed only a few minutes later, a million things running through his mind. He wanted more than anything to switch his brain off so he could get some sleep, but then he remembered that he  _ really _ needed to talk to Sansa.

He’d turned off his phone when Tara’s mom had been blowing it up, and knew it was high time to turn it back on and make sure that Sansa was okay. He was honestly nervous as fuck that the whole ordeal had scared her away for good, but he owed her an apology and an explanation anyway.

He turned on his phone to find that he already had a few messages from her:

**Sansa: I’m really, really sorry I ran out like that.**

**Sansa: Please don’t think that I’m trying to bring more drama to your life because I swear I’m not! I was trying to avoid drama, that’s all.**

**Sansa: NOT THAT YOU CAUSE DRAMA. Gods, that’s not what I meant.**

**Sansa: Just remembered you turned off your phone...so...I’m really sorry. Just know that my running out wasn’t about you. Or her, necessarily. Or rather it was, but because of the situation….**

**Sansa: I’m really bad at this. Please just call me when you can?**

**Sansa: If you want. Obviously you don’t have to.**

“This crazy woman,” Sandor muttered, squeezing at the bridge of his nose. He clicked the call button and waited. It rang twice before she picked up.

“Hi,” Sansa said, sounding a little breathless.

He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

“So…” She sounded nervous and he fucking hated that it was because of him. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for...running out on you.”

He felt the corner of his lip twitch as he reminded her. “You already said that.”

“Right, well, I felt like I needed to actually say it, rather than tell you through a text. I’m really glad you called actually. I was worried that you wouldn’t…” She trailed off.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t call you?” He frowned into the phone.

“I know I didn’t handle that very gracefully…”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he told her. “Doubt you have a protocol for exes showing up during your dates.”

She laughed and some of the tension between them seemed to ease. “You are correct. That is something I’ve never quite prepared myself for.”

“I should be apologizing to you,” he hadn’t really meant to say it aloud, but once he had, he realized how true it was. He should be fucking groveling. “Sansa, none of that was something you should’ve had to deal with. I’m...sorry,” it was easier to say that he’d thought it would be. “If it helps at all, I was just as surprised as you were.”

She chuckled again. “You definitely looked it,” she commented. “So...this may be too personal, but I gotta ask…”

“She wants to see Skylor,” he told her, though he was fairly certain she’d been around to hear that part. “She’s clean, I guess.”

“Oh, well that’s good. Did she get to see her then?”

“No,” he said immediately, sitting up in bed. “I wasn’t ready for that.”

“Understandable,” Sansa said, though she didn’t truly sound as if she understood any of it.

“I think Skylor wants to see her.”

Sansa was quiet on the other end and it made Sandor wonder if she disagreed that Skylor should see her mother or if she was so out of her depth with the topic that she didn’t have an opinion. 

He figured it was about time to change the subject, so he decided apologizing again was probably the best way to wrap up the awkwardness. “I’m sorry the night was ruined.”

She hummed in agreement. “Me too. Unless of course, this was some grand scheme of yours to scare me off.” 

He could hear the teasing in her voice and decided to play along. “Oh, did it work then?”

“Yeah, it just about did,” she laughed a little breathlessly and, for some strange reason, it made him miss her like crazy.

“Wish you were still here,” he told her.

“Do you now?”

“Aye. Who knows what we could’ve got up to if we hadn’t been interrupted.”

Maybe it was a step too far, but censoring himself with Sansa had never been his strong suit. He just knew she was blushing on the other end, and for some reason, it made him ridiculously happy.

“I know,” she whined a little. “There are all kinds of fun things you’re missing out on because of that.”

_ Well, fuck, thanks again Tara _ , he thought grouchily. Aloud, he said, “Fun things, huh?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed happily, then added, “Third date kind of things, probably.”

Sandor felt his eyebrows raise and he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice when he said, “But this was just the second date.”

“True,” Sansa sighed. “Guess it’s a good thing we were interrupted then.”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” he grumbled, suddenly very interested in exactly what third dates were supposed to officially entail. He hadn’t exactly ever followed any set of rules for dating and he was definitely curious if Sansa’s third date expectations involved what he was thinking.

He heard Sansa take a deep breath and he knew that their conversation was about to end.

“It’s getting late,” she said. “Arya and I are spending the day with my parents tomorrow since my oldest brother is in town. Guess I need to go to sleep…” She didn’t exactly sound as though she wanted to.

“Get some rest, little bird,” he said, though he was hesitant to hang up as well.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Sandor?”

“Hmm?”

“Can we not wait nearly a month for the next date?”

That startled a laugh out of him. “Eager?”

“You have no idea.”

“I think I have a little bit of an idea.”

“Sandor,” she gave that husky laugh again that made him want to jump out of bed and drive to her house. “I really do need to go, but…”

“But what?”

“Can I...can we maybe see each other Sunday? If it’s too soon, I understand, but…”

“Sunday it is,” he cut her off, not wanting to make her wait with any kind of uncertainty. “We’ll figure out the details when you’re done with your parents tomorrow. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” she was smiling, he could hear it in her voice and he wondered what the fuck he’d done to get that kind of reaction out of a woman like her. “Good night, Sandor.”

“‘Night, Sansa,” he answered her. 

He drifted off to sleep imagining all the things they might have gotten up to if they hadn’t been interrupted.


	17. I would literally do anything for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family dinner with the Cleganes :)
> 
> Also, for some reason the box for chapter notes isn't popping up so....yeah.
> 
> There is a "deleted" scene from this chapter which is why it's taken so long to get posted. I struggled with the decision to either change the rating of this story or to post the, erm, explicit scenes as a separate story. Ultimately, I wanted to keep this rated Teen because I'm sure there are some people who got into this story because it was rated Teen and I don't want to chase those people off. SO. If anyone is interested, the smutty deleted scene from this chapter will be posted under the name "Skin on Skin". If I can make my dumb self figure out how to link it, I'll add it later.. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!

“If you keep grinning stupidly down at your phone, this relationship of yours won’t be a secret for long.”

Sansa’s eyes snapped away from her screen and slid over to Arya. “Shouldn’t you be watching the road instead of watching me?”

Arya shrugged. “Traffic is barely moving and  _ you _ have hardly looked up from your phone. I’m just saying, Mom is sensitive about cell phones during family functions anyway, but if she were to find out…”

“What?” Sansa cut her off grouchily. “If she were to find out I have a  _ maybe, sort of _ boyfriend, what then? She’d be happy?” Sansa rolled her eyes.

Arya snorted and shook her head. “Right, if she were to find out you are sort of dating a forty year old man, she would be  _ thrilled _ .”

Sansa opened her mouth for a retort, then abruptly snapped it shut again, her eyes growing wide. “Oh, no,” she squeaked. “Mom can’t find out I have a forty year old boyfriend the same weekend Robb is introducing the wife none of us have met!”

Arya looked contemplative, then asked, “Is he actually your boyfriend?”

Sansa thumped back against her headrest. “Gods, she really  _ can’t  _ find out this weekend. And you’re right, I guess...I’m not sure boyfriend is the right terminology…:

“Yeah, considering he is definitely not a boy…”

“Not helping,” Sansa warned through gritted teeth.

“Actually, I’d be more worried about Dad than Mom.”

“You’re doing nothing to help this new-found anxiety.”

“You’ve been on two dates! It’s too early to tell Mom and Dad anyway, nevermind that he’s closer to Mom’s age than yours.”

Sansa turned in her seat to focus her glare more thoroughly on her sister. “Didn’t you encourage me to pursue this?”

Arya gave her an incredulous look. “Of course! You should continue to pursue it.  _ I _ don’t disapprove at all. Mom and Dad though…” She trailed off, raising her eyebrows meaningfully.

“I’d called it more than two dates,” Sansa insisted. She worried her lip between her teeth as she considered it. “I suppose it’s two official dates, but we’ve spent a lot of time together after Skylor’s practices.”

“That’s another thing - he has a kid. How do you think they’ll feel about that?”

Sansa didn’t have an answer for that, and it wasn’t something she’d even considered until Arya brought it up; something she may not have even worried about if last night hadn’t happened.

Arya seemed to understand what was going through Sansa’s head. “If Dad thought you were in danger because of some crazy ex-girlfriend…”

“She wasn’t dangerous,” Sansa insisted, though she didn’t know that for sure. “She just wanted to talk to Sandor. He said she wants to see Skylor.”

Arya shrugged again as she pulled up to the restaurant where they were meeting their family. “I’m behind you one hundred percent, you know that. But these are things you definitely need to think about, especially before you tell Mom and Dad.”

Sansa thumped her head against the seat again with a groan.

“So ready to get this over with….”

*

Overall, the dinner was pleasant, if only because Sansa’s mother was thoroughly focused on interrogating Robb’s new wife, Jeyne.

None of the family had met her except Jon, but Sansa had found her nice enough and Robb seemed over the moon.

Catelyn Stark was polite, as always, but Sansa was all too familiar with her mother’s mannerisms to feel like Jeyne had been readily accepted.

And then, halfway into the entree, Robb let it slip that Jeyne had a child from a previous marriage.

“He’s so cute, Mom, wait ‘til you see him,” he gushed, shoveling pasta into his mouth, clearly ignorant to the fact that Catelyn Stark had just lost all color in her face. “Three years old. He’s at that fun age where all he wants to do is play.”

Robb was similarly oblivious for the rest of the evening to the awkward turn things had taken. 

The next morning, it seemed Arya agreed with Sansa’s assessment of her brother.

“What kind of idiot springs that on Mom over lasagna at a public restaurant? She looked like she was going to faint,” Arya said incredulously as she slapped a K-cup in their Keurig. “Why didn’t Robb say something before to ease her into it?”

Sansa shrugged, “Maybe he wanted to tell her in person rather than over the phone.”

Arya just shook her head. “What an idiot. Once he gets back home, she’s going to be blowing his phone up wondering what the hell he was thinking.” Catelyn would never say anything to embarrass Robb in public, golden child that he was.

The feeling of unease that Sansa had started feeling as soon as Arya had opened her big, fat mouth about the situation with Sandor and Skylor only intensified as her sister pondered over their brother’s idiocy.

Sansa wasn’t in  _ quite _ the same situation as Robb, but it was too close for comfort.

And Sansa had a bad feeling that at some point she would get a call from Catelyn ranting about Robb not only marrying a girl he barely knew, but also marrying someone with a kid that didn’t belong to him.

There were clearly still some jumbled feelings that traced back to Jon, but neither Ned or Catelyn had ever seemed to committed to working through it - and as a result, Catelyn was prone to extreme prejudice when it came to blended families.

And if Catelyn could hold a grudge over Ned taking in his nephew, then Sansa didn't even want to think about what was going on in her head when she thought about Robb raising a kid that wasn't even his blood.

It made Sasa angry to be honest. She had never felt family was defined by blood, but Catelyn clearly had a different opinion.

Sansa’s head dropped into her hands and she groaned.

“You’re so whiny,” Arya said, lifting her mug from the drip tray before starting one for Sansa. “You aren’t  _ that _ worried about Robb, are you?”

“Of course I am,” Sansa said, sitting up straight. “His wife doesn’t deserve whatever judgment Mother is willing to dole out.”

Without turning around, Arya said, “And you’re worried about your own skin too.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled petulantly.

Arya sighed as she laid her coffee in front of her, made just how she liked.

“Maybe you’ll be in a better mood after this,” Arya said, strolling away, completely unconcerned with Sansa’s impending crisis.

*

By the time the afternoon rolled around and Sansa was headed over to Sandor’s, she had decided that what Catelyn didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

As big an idiot as Arya claimed Robb was, Sansa was beginning to see the merits of keeping her relationship quiet for now.

It wasn’t as though she and Sandor were too terribly serious.  _ Yet _ , a hopeful voice added.

And honestly, Sansa could admit to herself that she wanted to be more serious. She liked him and she knew that she wasn’t going to like anyone else anymore than she liked him so it seemed pointless to keep moving at this snail’s pace they’d set.

She was fairly certain that he liked her as much as she liked him, but it was clear that he had way more reservations - whether they were more about having a child or more about the age difference, Sansa didn’t know.

When she arrived at Sandor’s place, Sandor opened the door and she was once again drawn in by the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.

“What did you make this time?” She asked as she stepped inside and let him take her coat.

“Not a thing,” he said. “This is Skylor’s project. Homemade calzones.”

_ His twelve year old can cook better than me, _ she thought. Which may not have been true - Sansa was actually a decent cook, but since Arya only ate junk, it seemed silly to cook just for herself.

Sansa followed Sandor into the kitchen where Skylor was plating the calzones. 

"Mmm smells delicious," Sansa said.

"Dad thinks I'm going to give him food poisoning or something," Skylor said, throwing a playful glare at her dad. "But I saw this on YouTube."

"Of course you did," Sandor mumbled.

Skylor grinned at Sansa and said, "I'd think you'd be just a  _ little _ more grateful for my involvement in YouTube."

He glared at her as he took his plate from her and chose a spot at the table.

The calzones were amazing, so she told Skylor as much. "Is there anything you aren't good at? You're an athlete, you're super intelligent, and you cook. Do you have any weaknesses?"

Skylor laughed and shook her head. "Of course not. I win at everything."

"I beg to differ," Sandor grumbled. "You haven't heard her sing. And you don't want to."

"Wha?! I've got mad skills," she protested, finishing up the last bites of her calzone. "You're just jealous of my angelic voice."

He gave her a look and replied flatly. "Yeah, that's definitely it."

Sansa grinned as she listened to their banter. Something about the way they affectionately teased each other made her feel all warm and fuzzy. Sansa found herself studying Skylor throughout the meal. After she’d had her own selfish meltdown over what had happened with Skylor’s mother, her thoughts had turned to Skylor. She wondered if she was handling it okay, but it wasn’t exactly something she wanted to bring up over dinner.

Skylor seemed cheerful enough. As a teenager, Sansa remembered all her emotions being very close to the surface and she doubted she’d be able to deal with what Skylor was going through with such grace. 

“Oh, Sansa,” Skylor said, snapping her out of her thoughts and back to the present. “While you two were on your date Friday, Aunt Marge took me shopping for dresses for the Valentine’s dance…” Here, Sandor grimaced and glared down at his food. “Do you want to see it?”

“Of course,” Sansa said, cutting her eyes and Sandor’s stormy expression.

Skylor jumped up from the table and made a beeline for her bedroom. Sandor stood also, gathering the dirty dishes off the table.

“Not too keen on the idea of your baby girl going to a dance?” Sansa asked, helping to collect the dishes.

“Hmmph,” he grunted. He began rinsing off the plates and placing them in the dishwasher, but didn’t elaborate. He wet a rag and began wiping down the counter, grumbling something under his breath.

“Does your grumpiness have more to do with your baby growing up or more to do with the fact that there could be a boy involved?”

He grunted again and Sansa snickered as she walked around to the other side of the island to face him. “Come on, dad, don’t ruin her fun.”

Skylor trotted back into the kitchen and did a little twirl, then almost fell over in the low heels she was wearing. Sansa pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.

Her dress was a midnight blue fit and flare number that hit at the top of her knees. It had a round neckline with a lace-overlay bodice. It was simple and lovely and suited Skylor perfectly.

Sandor turned to her. “Thought you said you were going to wear your Converse with that.”

Skylor shrugged and looked down to admire the silver heels, turning one fit this way and that so that the light caught on the tiny rhinestones. “Changed my mind. Girls are allowed to do that, Dad.”

“You look gorgeous,” Sansa told her, and Skylor smiled back, a bit shyly.

And wasn’t  _ that _ weird. Because Skylor had never been shy about anything as far as Sansa could remember…

“So, um,” Skylor looked away, eyes fixating on some spot behind Sansa’s shoulder. “I was wondering if maybe you could, like, help me with my makeup for the dance? I wanted something a little more dramatic...” 

_ Oh _ .  _ That’s why she’s shy _ . 

Sansa gave her a warm smile. “Of course. I’d love to help.”

Skylor positively beamed at her and Sansa was once again overcome with affection for this kid. She’d always loved kids, but in the past, she’d been drawn to younger kids - the ones who were free with affection and loved everyone - but now this girl on the cusp of being a teenager had stolen her heart. It worried her a little, honestly, because now Sansa had gotten herself into a situation where, if things didn’t work out with Sandor, she not only would lose a man she cared deeply about, but his kid as well.

She shook off those feelings as Skylor babbled about what kinds of makeup she’d like to try and Sandor rolled his eyes so hard Sansa thought they might just roll out of his head. Finally, Skylor decided she was going to take a shower.

*

A blood-curdling scream startled Sansa back into reality as Sandor jumped away from her and jerked his head toward the hallway. He took off running before Sansa could open her mouth and was banging on the bathroom door in seconds.

“Skylor! What is it?! Bitty, open the door!”

Sansa could vaguely hear that the shower was still running over all the banging. She crept from the kitchen to the living room, still too afraid to approach the hallway where the main bathroom was located. 

She was terrified that Skylor had fallen in the shower. Images of Sandor having to bust down the door filled her thoughts and she briefly wondered if maybe they were doomed to have something traumatic happen on every date from now on. She chewed at her bottom lip as Sandor waited as patiently as he could for about thirty seconds before he started banging again.

“Skylor!”

“Leave me alone!” A shrill demand issued from inside the bathroom with a faint echo, indicating she was still in the shower. 

Sansa peeked around the corner. Sandor was standing outside the bathroom, giving the door an incredulous look.

“Leave you alone?” He growled. “You just screamed like you were being murdered! Are you okay?”

“Yes!” Then, a second later, quieter, “No.”

Sandor turned around to give Sansa a quizzical look, as if she knew what was going on. She just returned his look dumbly. Sandor thumped his head against the bathroom door, looking part aggravated and part worried.

Clearly screaming bloody murder in the bathroom was not normal for Skylor.

After a few moments, Skylor called out to him. “Can-can you call Aunt Marge?”

He leaned back from the door and frowned. “The fuck?” He mumbled. Louder, he said, “Why?”

“I need her!”

And then it was suddenly completely clear to Sansa what had happened. Her eyes widened and she closed the space between herself and Sandor, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Uh, I don’t know a delicate way to ask this, so…” She trailed off, lowering her voice. “Has she...you know, started?”

His brows lowered and the poor man looked beyond confused. “Started what?” He hissed back, looking at her like she was speaking a different language.

Sansa rolled her eyes and sighed. “Her...monthly time?”

It took what, in hindsight, was probably an embarrassingly lengthy amount of time for Sandor to understand what she meant. She just stared at him while he put the pieces together in his head, and she watched the moment everything slid into place and his eyes widened.

“Oh,” he said. Then he leapt back back from the door like it was on fire. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Yeah, oh,” Sansa said flatly, shaking her head a little because  _ surely _ he knew this was coming, right?

“I’ll call Marge,” he mumbled - then, louder so Skylor could hear. “Calling Marge!”

“Thanks,” she answered weakly.

Sansa crept closer to the door, feeling a compulsion to offer comfort, but uncertain if that’s something Skylor wanted from her. Eventually, she heard the tap turn off and the shower curtain rings skate across the rod and determined Skylor was probably getting out.

She took a deep breath, and said gently, “Skylor, are you okay?”

There were a few tense moments of silence, then - “I don’t know.”

“So, um, has anyone talked to you about…” She trailed off, completely unsure of how to go about this. She tried to remember when Arya had gone through this and what she’d said to her. But the difference here was that Arya had Catelyn - Skylor had...well, maybe Margaery, but she wasn’t sure that anyone had sat her down and explained everything.

“Yeah,” Skylor answered, sounding resigned. “I mean, Marge tried to prepare me for this, I guess. It’s just...it was so  _ sudden _ .” A beat, then, “Glad I didn’t bleed on my dress.”

Sansa couldn’t stop the smirk from pulling at her lips. “Hopefully Margaery can help you soon, but if you need anything, I’m here. I know I’m probably not the person you…”

“Fuck!” 

Sansa spun around to see Sandor standing back in the hallway, glaring down at the phone in his hand. “She isn’t answering. It’s going straight to voicemail.”

Sansa looked worriedly toward the bathroom door, realizing at this moment that she was literally the only female this girl had. Unless…

“Do you want to try her grandmother? Or...her...her mom?” Sansa asked in a whisper, hopefully low enough so that Skylor didn’t hear.

Sandor scowled. “Fuck, no, but...I don’t know…”

Sansa took a fortifying breath and said, “Can you go get my purse?”

He nodded and headed off to the living room.

“Skylor,” Sansa said, once again facing the door. “I have a pad I’m going to give you until we can get you to the drug store. I know you may not be comfortable with me doing this, but…”

The door swung open then and Skylor stood just inside the bathroom door, wrapped up in a fluffy blue towel, her hair dripping wet. She looked embarrassed, but beckoned Sansa inside anyway, then promptly slammed the door.

“I’m sorry,” Skylor said, and the look of shame on her face was enough to break Sansa’s heart.

“Oh, no, no, sweetie,” Sansa wanted to hug her, but the poor kid was naked, menstruating, and stuck in a bathroom with her dad’s girlfriend. Or something. Sansa wanted to make sure she knew Skylor’s boundaries. “This is not something to be sorry for or ashamed of, okay? Not at all. It’s normal and all girls have it.”

“I  _ know _ that,” Skylor huffed. “It’s just that this isn’t something you should have to deal with…”

“Okay, missy, stop right there,” Sansa told her, finally gripping her shoulders to make her stop fidgeting. “This is  _ not _ a burden, okay? Now, I’ll help you, but you have to promise me - no more shame, no more apologies - none of it, okay?”

Skylor nodded, her eyes dropping to the floor just as something was shoved under the door.

A throat was cleared on the other side. “That’s, uh...what you needed, right?”

Skylor cringed as she bent to pick up the little wrapped square that held the pad and Sansa called through the door, “Right!” She looked at Skylor. “Do you want him to go away?”

Skylor nodded emphatically, so Sansa called, “Now, get lost please!”

Thankfully, Sandor clearly didn’t need to be told twice. “On it!” He called back, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he put as much distance between himself and the bathroom as he could.

“Men,” Sansa said, rolling her eyes, which earned her a nervous giggle from Skylor.

After a few more moments, she left Skylor alone to get dressed with the promise that she would run her to the store. She found Sandor in the kitchen, staring out the window a bit heavily, as though he were contemplating the meaning of life, and she tried not to smirk as she approached him.

“Don’t worry, she’s going to survive,” Sansa joked as she crept up behind him, circling her arms around his waist. 

“I’m sure she is,” he grumbled. “But the jury’s still out about whether or not I’m going to survive doing this on my own.”

She pressed her head between her shoulder blades. “You’re doing a damn good job so far.”

“Not sure how that would’ve went without you,” he said.

“You would’ve figured it out.”

“You mean after I panicked and kicked in the bathroom door?”

Sansa laughed and squeezed him tighter. “Something like that.”

“You handled it like a pro.”

She hummed in agreement. “Well, I have been through it so…”

The door to the bathroom opened and closed again, and Sansa pulled away, letting Sandor turn around.

“I’m going to run her to the drug store for...stuff,” Sansa told him and he just nodded, but as she turned around to go after Skylor, he clasped her arm and pulled her back to him, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” he told her quietly.

****  
She looked up at him and thought  _ it’s nothing, I would literally do anything for her. Or you _ She didn’t say it, but gave him a smile before turning back around to head out the door.   



End file.
